The Bitter End
by Mia Cooper
Summary: In the tenth year of their journey, Voyager is in bad shape, and so is her command team. A powerful enemy brings ever more desperate times, and with nowhere to run, an unthinkable sacrifice may be the only option for the crew's survival. [J/C, C/7. This is VERY dark. You have been warned.]
1. Prologue

**Notes**

 _Admiral Janeway_ : Unfortunately, our favourite cup took a bit of a beating along the way. It was damaged during a battle with the Fen Domar.

 _Captain Janeway_ : Who?

 _Admiral Janeway_ : You'll run into them in a few years.

~ _Endgame_

 **Warning**

Depictions of violence and rape. Major character death (but if you've seen _Endgame_ , it shouldn't be a surprise). Minor character deaths, too.

 **Disclaimer**

Paramount/CBS own _Voyager_ , her crew, and the Star Trek universe. I own this idea and the words I used.

===0===

 _ **Prologue**_

 _Stardate 58006.1 – January 15, 2381_

 _Voyager_ 's first officer looked as though sleep was something he'd last enjoyed in a previous existence. As for peace, Harry Kim had his doubts that Commander Chakotay would ever find that quality again. Nonetheless, the XO's voice was icily calm as he addressed the Ops officer.

"Open hailing frequencies."

"Channel open," Lieutenant Kim replied immediately.

"USS _Voyager_ to the Fen Domar vessel," Chakotay pronounced. "Respond."

On the viewscreen, the now-familiar image of a tall, thickly-muscled, bronze-skinned alien appeared, ridged cheekbones widened in a smile. The pointed canines it revealed did nothing to put the Ops officer at ease.

~Commander Chakotay,~ the Fen Inheritor greeted him, mock-unctuously. ~Such a pleasure. We've been expecting your hail.~

"Inheritor Alkin." Chakotay's voice remained inflectionless. "Since you've been expecting to hear from me, I'm sure you know what I want."

~Of course.~ If anything, the smile broadened, giving Kim and the rest of the bridge crew a glimpse of the venom sacs located in the Fen's upper gums. ~And you know, of course, that I must regretfully deny your request.~

Kim watched Chakotay's spine lock. "It's not a request, Alkin." His voice had lowered to a level others had sometimes mistaken for soft. Kim knew better. "Give her back. _Now_."

~Oh, I don't think so,~ the Fen chuckled. ~You see, your captain and I have been having a wonderful time getting to know each other. I'd hate to be deprived of her company so soon in our association.~

"I'm warning you, Alkin –"

The Inheritor laughed outright. ~Empty threats, Commander.~ The grinning face altered, all pretence of humour fading as the Fen leaned in close. ~I suggest you cut your losses and be on your way, boy. Before you cease to amuse me.~

Chakotay's eyes never left the viewscreen as he ordered, "Mr Ayala, lock phasers on that ship and prepare to fire on my command."

~Oh, I wouldn't do that,~ Alkin suggested. ~We both know my ship's capabilities would match yours in a conflict. And besides, your captain has been most helpful in providing me with interesting details regarding your ship. Shield frequencies, weaponry complements… Quite talkative, she is, with the proper motivation. In fact we were just getting to her command codes when you so rudely interrupted us.~

With that he stepped back, allowing the _Voyager_ crew a view of the rest of his vessel's bridge, and Harry Kim was unable to muffle a horrified groan at the sight before him.

The bridge of the alien ship was twice as large as _Voyager_ 's. Low bulkheads jutted down from the ceiling, crew stations ringed the hexagonal chamber and a wide, raised platform at its centre supported the appropriately throne-like chair where the Inheritor would, under normal circumstances, sit. There seemed to be far too many Fen crewmen on the bridge. The reason was instantly obvious.

The Fen officers were grouped around the dais the Inheritor had vacated. Between them hung a small figure, head bowed, all her frail weight suspended from the metal shackles that tethered her to the bulkhead above. She still wore the remains of her uniform – blood-soaked pants, a torn and dirty undershirt – and she was pitifully thin, Harry noticed with churning stomach, even thinner than she'd seemed before the Fen had taken her hostage. The visible parts of her formerly alabaster skin – arms, chest – were scored and ribboned with blood both dried and fresh.

" _Kathryn_ ," he heard the first officer breathe.

The Inheritor grinned at Chakotay. ~Lovely, isn't she? Her skin does mark so beautifully.~

Striding over to her, Alkin grasped the bottom hem of her tank top and lifted it, baring Janeway's stomach. Her protruding ribs were darkened with bruises, her pale skin marred with what Harry could only guess were lash marks from some kind of whip, and he could clearly hear how laboured her breathing was.

~Wake up, Kathryn,~ the Fen shouted directly in the captain's ear. ~Your friends would like to say hello.~

Alkin grasped a handful of tangled auburn hair and yanked; Kim winced as the captain's head jerked up, her neck angled sharply and, from her soft moan, painfully. And her face … _God_. He swallowed hard against a surge of nausea. They'd broken her nose and, he suspected, her jaw. Blood from an evil-looking gash on her temple covered one side of her face. One eye was swollen shut and ringed with bruises, her good eye dull and hazed with pain.

She'd been on that ship for almost twelve hours, and he couldn't stand to imagine what horrors they'd put her through.

~I'll say this much,~ Alkin remarked casually, tracing a line from her temple to her throat with one thick finger. ~For such a scrawny creature, she has proved remarkably resistant. She bears pain quite well, and we've had to inject her with twice the usual amount of truth serum to get anything of use out of her.~

He leaned in, tongue extending to lick Janeway's bloodied cheek, and Chakotay growled, a feral sound Harry had never before heard from the formerly mild-mannered commander.

~Now, Kathryn,~ the Fen said silkily. ~Tell me _Voyager_ 's command codes.~

Kim watched as Janeway swivelled her head, slowly, staring down the Inheritor with her one good eye. He could only imagine the blazing hate and fury the Fen was being treated to at that moment.

~You … son of a … Cardassian … whore,~ the captain rasped. ~It doesn't … matter … what you do … to me. I will … _never_ … give you … what you want.~

"Let her go," Chakotay roared.

~Let her go?~ Alkin turned back to the viewscreen, what passed for a delighted smile baring every gleaming white tooth in his mouth. ~What a wonderful idea, Commander. I've been saving one particular method of persuasion for the appropriate time. But what better time to use it than now? And I'm so pleased you'll be able to observe.~

He jerked his head at one of the soldiers, and the man stepped forward, a small knife glinting in his hand. Harry stiffened in horror. But instead of slitting Janeway's throat, as he'd feared, the soldier placed his knife at the neckline of Janeway's undershirt and drew it downward. Grey Starfleet-issue cloth parted and peeled apart, the knife slashing through the clasp of her bra, leaving her bared to the waist. The blade moved further down, cutting into her uniform pants, and the soldier yanked the strips of material away and sliced through the elastic of her underwear.

It was clear that the pieces of her uniform they'd – until now – allowed her to keep had offered scant protection. Cuts and bruises defaced almost every inch of her skin.

"Let. Her. _Go_."

~As you wish,~ Alkin smiled. ~Cut her down.~

Another soldier stepped forward and released the manacles holding the captain upright, and she dropped, thudding to her knees on the grated-metal deck. Kim watched, sickened, as she struggled to push herself to her feet. The soldier placed a boot in the small of her back and sent her sprawling face-down on the floor.

Alkin knelt behind her, curling one arm around her waist and dragging her back against his body. His other hand was busy at his belt.

 _God, no_ , Kim thought, mouth going dry in horror as he realised what was about to happen.

The Fen lifted his smirking face to the viewscreen again as his hand moved from Janeway's waist to clutch one breast, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. A groan escaped from behind her clenched teeth. ~Get … your hands … _off_ me,~ she gritted.

~But my dear,~ he murmured, never losing eye contact with Chakotay, ~don't you want me to show your lover how it's done?~

"Alkin, if you do this, I swear to God –"

~Yes, yes.~ Alkin held Janeway firm with one hand on her hip while he groped between her legs from behind. A grimace twisted her features. ~Ah, there we are. Watch and learn, Commander.~

He lunged forward, and Janeway screamed.

The Fen soldiers cheered.

"No," Kim moaned, unable to silence himself, unable to tear his eyes from the violation playing out on the viewscreen. He could hear horrified groans from the rest of the bridge crew, and at the science station, Samantha Wildman was sobbing.

"Turn it off," Chakotay's voice was hoarse. "Now."

"I – I can't," Kim reported, working desperately at his console, "they've jammed the transmission feed somehow."

Alkin's vicious thrusts increased. Janeway had only cried out once and then tightened her lips, bearing his attack in silence, her head dropping forward; Harry wasn't sure if the pain had overcome her or she just couldn't bear to watch her crew watching her. The jeers of the soldiers increased, and the captain permitted one broken moan to escape as Alkin finally finished, then stood, fastening his pants.

Another soldier stepped into his place.

Sam Wildman bent over and threw up under her console.

~I suspect, Commander, that your captain will soon be telling us everything we need to know to destroy your ship,~ Alkin said smoothly. ~In the meantime, I hope you've enjoyed the show. Cut transmission,~ he ordered one of his men, and the screen went dead.

"Lieutenant Ayala." Chakotay's voice sounded rusted. "Fire."

===0===

(TBC)


	2. Chapter 1

_**Chapter**_ _ **One**_

 _Stardate_ _57910.3 – November 29, 2380_

"Report."

"A small vessel is on approach, Captain," Tuvok replied, vacating Janeway's chair as the captain and commander entered the bridge from opposite sides. "Its weapons are powered and it is not responding to hails."

"Red alert."

 _She looks exhausted_ , Tom Paris thought as the captain took her seat. Granted, she'd just been woken at 0400 hours after probably only getting to bed an hour or so earlier, given her habit of working late into the night. But this, her whole manner, radiated the kind of fatigue that didn't come from a night or two of broken sleep.

Not that that was any kind of surprise. The past few months hadn't been easy. The three-month trip through Kaylev territory had been hardest on the captain; a protocol-obsessed species, the Kaylevi had insisted on _Voyager_ checking in at every waystation, planet and satellite in their space, and at every checkpoint the captain had been required to undergo a lengthy and repetitive interrogation. And then just as they'd emerged from Kaylev space, they'd run into the Borg not once but twice. They'd lost Bennet and Dorado to assimilation in the second engagement. Tom was pretty sure the captain hadn't slept more than three hours at a stretch since.

"The vessel is within weapons range," Tuvok reported from Tactical. "Still no response to hails." He paused, then warned: "They are firing."

 _Voyager_ shuddered, and Kim announced, "Minor damage to the port nacelle."

"Shields are holding," Tuvok added.

"Is that the best they've got?" Janeway asked dubiously.

"Their weapons complement is easily outclassed by _Voyager_ 's," Tuvok replied. "Shall I disable them?"

Janeway nodded. "Target their weapons and fire."

"Their weapons systems are inoperative," announced Tuvok a moment later.

"Hail them again –" the captain began, but before she could finish, the small ship had gone to warp. "Well," she said drily. "I guess we won't be making any new friends today. Mr Paris, continue on our previous course and heading. Mr Kim, I want to know if that ship or any like it shows up again."

"Aye, Captain," they chorused.

"I'll be in my ready room. You have the bridge, Commander," she tossed over her shoulder without breaking stride.

"Aye, Captain," Chakotay muttered.

Tom raised an eyebrow. _Is it my imagination, or is he even more sullen than usual this morning?_

"Problem, Paris?" Chakotay's dark stare was fixed on the pilot.

 _Uh-oh_. "No, sir. Just flying the ship, sir."

There were plenty of things Tom disliked about red-alert calls in the early hours. The adrenaline dump once the danger had passed – if it did –, the extra hours tacked onto his regular Alpha shift, the disruption to Miral's routine, B'Elanna's exhaustion when she finally returned to their quarters after mopping up whatever damage the latest batch of unfriendly aliens had dealt out. Lately, though, one of the least pleasant things about it would have to be the additional time he was forced to spend in Chakotay's company.

 _Scratch that_ , he thought with a sigh, _the captain's and Chakotay's company_.

Tom and Chakotay had never seen eye to eye, although he'd thought they'd reached a point where they could almost call each other a friend, but of late it seemed like the commander pounced on any opportunity to give Tom a hard time. Although, he had to admit, it wasn't only himself that Chakotay seemed to rag on lately. Pretty much everyone had felt the sharp edge of the commander's tongue at one time or other in recent months.

 _And they say marriage is bliss_ , he thought sarcastically. It certainly hadn't mellowed the first officer any.

As for the captain … She'd taken to retreating into her ready room for hours at a time, which might have given her a respite from her first officer's near-constant bad mood, but only made Chakotay glower more fiercely and take it out on the bridge crew.

 _What the hell happened to them?_ Tom couldn't help wondering.

Whatever the reason for it, he wished they'd patch it up before it drove the entire crew crazy.

===0===

 _Stardate 57916.2 – December 1, 2380_

The mood at the senior staff meeting was not positive.

"You're telling me we only have three weeks' worth of supplies in storage?" Chakotay's voice was dangerously low as he rounded on Chell.

The Bolian shrank back in his seat. "Yes, sir," he mumbled. "Half of the vegetables we procured from the Kaylevi had some kind of blight, and several airponics crops failed when Deck Four was exposed to space during the last Borg attack. I've been stretching out our dried stores as much as I can, but if we don't find a source of fresh produce soon…" He trailed off miserably.

Chakotay opened his mouth, but Janeway forestalled him with a raised hand. "We'll make food supplies our top priority, Mr Chell. Lieutenant Torres?"

"We need dilithium," Torres said flatly. "If we don't find some within the next couple of weeks, we'll have to drop speed. And the dolamide reserves are approaching critical. I recommend we shut down power to all unnecessary decks."

The captain bit back on a sigh. "Commander, draw up a list of crew quarter reassignments. We'll all have to double up for a while. Seven, Harry, have your teams run continuous long-range sensor sweeps. Find us food and energy sources. Tuvok?"

"Crewmen Doyle and Hamilton are currently confined to the brig for brawling. I recommend they be reallocated to separate quarters, as this is the third time in six months they have required such discipline. Aside from that incident, I have nothing to report."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "What about your tests on the torpedoes we acquired from the Dromin? You mentioned last week that you and Seven had enhanced them with nanoprobes."

"Yes." Tuvok shifted in his seat. "I apologise for my oversight. Preliminary simulations showed a forty percent increase in the torpedoes' yield. However, the Dromin torpedoes are incompatible with _Voyager_ 's systems. It will take some time to integrate them."

"Carry on." Janeway watched him carefully for a moment. "Seven?"

"Astrometric sensors have detected an area of subspace instability twelve light years ahead. I have suggested a minor course correction to Lieutenant Paris."

"Already actioned," Paris piped up. "And I'm running navigational sweeps for any other obstacles in our path."

"Good. If there's nothing further?" The captain glanced around the room, then nodded. "Stations, people."

They started filing out, Chakotay striding into the lead.

"Tuvok," Janeway said softly.

"Captain?"

She waited until the room had emptied. "How are you?"

Tuvok met her searching gaze. "I have been experiencing minor lapses in concentration. However, I am endeavouring to control the effects with further meditation."

She nodded. "And has the Doctor made any progress on finding a cure?"

"My prognosis remains the same, despite the Doctor's efforts."

"I see." Janeway studied him. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, Captain. Thank you."

"And you'll let me know if your prognosis changes?"

"Of course."

"All right." She gave him a half-smile. "Dismissed, Commander."

Kathryn's eyes followed the Vulcan as he returned to the bridge.

===0===

 _Stardate 57916.2 – December 2, 2380_

"Captain, there's a ship on approach. It matches the hull signature of the vessel that attacked us two days ago, but it's significantly larger."

"Send out the standard greeting hail."

"No response," Harry reported a moment later. "Their shields are up and weapons powered."

"Red alert. Keeping hailing them, Lieutenant."

Janeway paced in front of her chair as Kim continued to report the lack of response to hails.

"The ship is firing," Tuvok noted. _Voyager_ rocked sharply. "The energy output of their phasers is double the yield of the previous ship's. Shields are at eighty percent."

"Harry?"

"Still nothing, Captain."

"Fire a warning shot across their bow."

The alien ship retaliated instantly, and Tuvok reported, "Shields at sixty-five percent. Several EPS relays have been damaged on decks ten and eleven. Repair teams are responding."

"Suggestions?" Janeway looked exasperated.

~Torres to the bridge.~

"Go ahead."

~Captain, we've taken damage to the primary warp coil reactors. They're stabilised, but I wouldn't recommend taking another hit like that.~

"Understood. Tom, plot us a course away from that ship. Warp seven."

"Aye," he answered, and added, "They're not following, Captain."

"Good. Bridge to Astrometrics."

~Yes, Captain?~ Seven's cool tones came over the comm system.

"Are you detecting any other vessels matching that ship's signature?"

~Yes, Captain. There are three ships of similar configuration on a parallel course to ours, three point two light years distant.~

"Keep an eye on them. I want to know if those ships decide to head in our direction."

~Acknowledged.~

Janeway cut the channel and turned to Chakotay. "Commander, would you join me in my ready room?"

He gave a short, silent nod and followed her in.

"I'd offer you something," she said drily as the doors closed behind them, "but I doubt we have the replicator energy to spare."

"I don't need anything."

She waved him to the seat across from her desk and sat, folding her hands in front of her. "We have a situation."

He waited, watching her.

"If our dolamide reserves continue to drop without finding another usable power source, we'll have to run the ship in grey mode. And as you heard yesterday, the food situation is becoming a problem."

Silence.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm asking if you have any suggestions, Commander."

He shrugged. "None that you'll like."

Her jaw firmed. "Go ahead."

"We should reverse course. Re-establish contact with the Kaylevi. Try to barter for more supplies."

"After last time?" She shook her head. "If it was just a matter of suffering through their interminable version of diplomacy, I wouldn't hesitate. But they weren't prepared to trade dilithium, deuterium or any other minerals of use to us, and even the foodstuffs we obtained from them were next to useless."

"Then take a different route. It's clear there are no planets or moons with anything we can mine or harvest on our current path. We don't have to head back to Kaylevi territory, but if we alter course we might find a species willing to trade."

"We might." She leaned back slightly. "Or we might not, and then we'd have to make up travel time for no reason."

"Well, Captain, those were my two best suggestions."

Kathryn rubbed her forehead. "Any worse ones?"

"You won't like this either, but I think we have to implement rationing, whatever course you ultimately decide to pursue. I recommend the crew be limited to two meals in the mess hall per day with rations supplementing the third. And replicator usage should be restricted to necessities, at least until we find a viable food source."

"You're right, I don't like it. But I don't think we have a choice." Sighing, she pressed her fingers to her aching temples. "I guess I'm giving up coffee again. That's going to do wonders for my headaches."

"You should go to sickbay, get an analgesic." The first officer's tone was slightly less cool than had become customary.

She gave him a half smile in response. "Replicator restrictions, remember? I'll live with it."

He nodded without returning the smile, weak as it was. "Am I dismissed, Captain?"

"Dismissed," she acceded quietly.

She stared pensively at the doors for a long time after they'd closed behind him.

===0===

 _Stardate 57921.5 – December 3, 2380_

"Good morning, Ensign."

Seven of Nine glanced up as Janeway slid into the seat opposite her. "Captain."

"What's the breakfast special like this morning?"

Seven raised her spoon and watched as the porridge overflowed into her bowl. "Crewman Chell refers to this as the 'breakfast of champions'." She returned the spoon to her bowl. "It is unappetising."

"Ah." Kathryn wrinkled her nose as the smell of the porridge wafted toward her. "Don't tell me he's done a Neelix on us and started padding out the menu with leola root."

Seven shrugged one shoulder. "It would be an efficient use of ship's resources. I believe Neelix still had two containers of leola root in dry storage when he left the ship."

"Should have made him take them with him," Janeway muttered darkly. "I had hoped I'd never have to eat the stuff again. Still," she sighed as she spooned up some of her own porridge, "beggars can't be choosers."

Her grimace as she tasted the first spoonful made Seven's mouth twitch at the corners.

"How have you been, Seven?" the captain asked when she'd washed the taste away with a glass of water. "It's been a while since we talked."

"I am recovering well from my last surgery. The Doctor is pleased with my progress and has informed me that the removal of the Borg implants from my reproductive organs was successful. He believes procreation should be possible, should I wish to pursue it."

The spoon stopped halfway to Kathryn's mouth and lowered slowly back to her bowl.

"I see," she said faintly. "And – do you? Want children?"

"I'm uncertain." Seven's gaze dropped to the table. "Chakotay … We haven't discussed it."

"Oh." Kathryn stared at her bowl. "Well, if it's what the two of you want, Seven, you'll have my support, of course."

"Thank you, Captain."

Janeway nodded, then got to her feet, smile fixed on her face. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get to the bridge."

===0===

 _Stardate 57924.6 - December 4, 2380_

"Status reports, Captain." Chakotay strode into her ready room the following morning and dropped a stack of PADDs on her desk.

"Thanks." She waved him to a seat. "Give me the highlights?"

"Energy reserves are dropping, food supplies are tight, crew morale is at an all-time low, and you felt free to question my wife about our personal business."

Kathryn's head jerked up. "I beg your pardon?"

"You asked Seven if we were planning to have children." His dark eyes snapped at her across the desk.

"For your information," she retorted icily, " _your wife_ was the one who brought the topic up."

"Really." Chakotay's voice was flat. "You just can't help yourself, can you, Kathryn? What is it? Are you still so possessive of Seven that you have to know every detail of her personal life?"

The blood drained from her face.

"Or," he leaned forward, hissing, "is it that you can't stand knowing you don't have a hold on me anymore?"

At that, she leaned in as well, eyes hard and locked on his. "Don't I?" She let her gaze drift downward to his lips, her tongue slipping out to moisten her own, then raised her eyes to his again and drawled, "Really, Chakotay?"

A pulse beat hotly in his temple. "Go to hell, Kathryn," he spat, and swivelled, marching out of the ready room.

"See you there," she said softly, after he'd gone.

===0===

~Astrometrics to the bridge. Two alien vessels are on approach. At present speed they will reach our coordinates in two hours.~

"Are they the same ships you've been tracking, Ensign?"

~No, Captain. Those ships remain on their previous heading.~

"Great." Harry watched Janeway straighten in her chair. "Keep monitoring them, Seven. I want to know if they decide to join the party. Janeway out."

She turned to Tactical.

"Any update on those nanoprobe-enhanced torpedoes, Tuvok? We may find we need them."

"The weapons have been integrated into _Voyager_ 's systems, Captain. However, the torpedo launching system's safety protocols are incompatible with the weapons' increased yield. At present, the firing mechanism must be manually overridden, causing a delay of ninety seconds before the torpedo is fired. I'm attempting to implement an automatic override code."

"Keep at it. Lieutenant Kim, send out continuous hails. I'm still hopeful we can find a peaceful solution here."

"We could retreat," Chakotay interjected.

"We could." The captain didn't bother turning to look at him. "But it's looking like we've trespassed into someone's territory, and who knows how many more of them we might encounter in another direction? No. We meet them on our terms."

Chakotay fell silent.

The wait was tense, and Kim found himself fidgeting at his console. By the time the two alien ships entered weapons range he was almost relieved. "Still no answer to our hails, Captain," he reported without being asked.

Nobody was surprised when the ships opened fire.

"Evasive manoeuvres," Janeway snapped out. "Tuvok, phasers. Disable their weapons."

"Direct hit on the lead vessel. It is retreating. The other is continuing to attack."

A whine filled the air, and Harry tapped frantically into his console. "Captain, that last hit took out the primary EPS generator. It's overloading."

"Clear all affected sections."

"Captain, the main power conduit runs directly through the bridge…"

"Tom, get us out of here. Harry, reroute bridge controls to Engineering and then evacuate Deck One," Janeway ordered as the whine increased to a scream. "Everybody out _. Now!_ "

She spared the briefest of glances for the departing bridge crew as she remained seated, working feverishly at the command console.

"Captain." Chakotay leaned over the upper level railing, shouting to be heard over the screech of the power build-up. "These conduits are going to rupture in less than twenty seconds. You need to get out."

"I'm trying to route the power flow through the –"

" _Kathryn!_ " He vaulted down from the upper level. "There's no time!"

He grabbed her by the elbow and hauled her out of her chair, dragging her with him to the turbolift. As the 'lift doors slammed shut they heard the build-up reach its crescendo, exploding the bridge consoles in a chain reaction. The ship shuddered and groaned, and the turbolift dropped sickeningly. Janeway heard the shriek of the emergency brakes and then the two of them were flung to the deck as the 'lift came to an abrupt halt.

Her ears were ringing, though whether it was from the after-echo of the explosion or the blow she'd taken to the head when the 'lift was forcibly stopped, she wasn't sure. Still gasping for breath, she pushed herself upright, leaning against the turbolift wall. She had to clear her throat before she could speak. "Chakotay. Are you all right?"

"Fine," he muttered tightly.

Kathryn wondered if the unspoken _no thanks to you_ was only in her imagination.

She tapped her commbadge. "Janeway to Engineering."

No response.

"Janeway to Tuvok."

There was a faint crackle and the security chief's voice came through. ~Tuvok here, Captain.~

She almost slumped in relief. "Report."

~I am in Jeffries tube eleven-beta with the rest of the bridge crew. We are making our way to Engineering. What is your status?~

"The commander and I are trapped in a turbolift, but we're fine," she answered. "As soon as you've set up the secondary command centre I want full damage reports. Once you've secured all systems, send someone to get us out."

~Acknowledged, Captain.~ Tuvok closed the channel and Kathryn slumped against the wall.

"Well," Chakotay said sarcastically. "What do you propose we do to pass the time?"

She bit back on her instinctive response, forcing calm into her voice as she settled opposite him. "I'm sorry," she offered quietly. "And thank you."

"What for?"

"For saving my life."

He met her eyes then, and his own softened. "I'd never leave you behind, Kathryn," he answered, all the bite gone from his voice. "Despite – everything. You know that."

"Yes," she said softly. "I know that."

Hesitantly, she reached for his hand, and just as hesitantly his fingers wound into her own.

~Tuvok to Janeway.~

"Go ahead," she answered without taking her eyes from Chakotay, or her hand from his.

~I have established temporary bridge control in Engineering. Two crewmen sustained serious injuries but the Doctor reports their condition as stable. The rupture of the main power conduit has caused widespread damage to the ship. Lieutenant Torres estimates six days to repair it. As a result of the power overload, our energy reserves have dropped to sixty-two percent.~

The captain swallowed hard, watching as Chakotay's eyes softened in sympathy. "Thank you, Tuvok." She forced her voice not to shake. "Advise all hands that we'll be running the ship in grey mode until we find an alternative energy source."

~Transporters are online, Captain. Do you wish to be beamed out?~

"No," she answered. "It would use energy we can't afford to waste. We'll wait until you can retrieve us."

~Understood. I will keep you advised of our status. Tuvok out.~

As the comm fell silent, Janeway closed her eyes, fighting for control.

"Kathryn."

She shook her head.

"Kathryn, look at me."

She felt the touch of his fingers against her jaw and opened tear-blurred eyes. "Chakotay," she whispered. "I don't know how much more of this I can take …"

"Shh," he urged, his hands cradling her face, offering her everything she knew she had no right to take, and without so much as a token inner struggle, she gave in.

===0===

It was Harry Kim who eventually came to release them from the turbolift.

They stood at opposite sides of the 'lift, faces impassive, not looking at each other. Janeway had a bruise on her forehead and Chakotay's uniform jacket was torn at the shoulder seam, but otherwise they appeared unharmed.

"Captain, Commander," he greeted them nervously. "Are you both all right?"

"Fine," they answered in unison. Janeway stepped forward into the corridor. "What's the status of the bridge?"

"B'Elanna has teams up there right now, Captain. It looks like the damage isn't as bad as we thought. We should be able to re-establish the command centre up there by tomorrow morning."

"That's the first piece of good news I've had all month. The rest of the ship?"

"Not so good, I'm afraid." Harry brushed aside a piece of hanging conduit to let the command team pass. "Two decks are unusable and Astrometrics suffered heavy damage –"

Chakotay stopped short. "Seven?"

"She's in Sickbay. The Doctor said she wasn't seriously hurt," Harry hastened to add.

"Permission to –"

"Granted," Janeway cut him off. "Go."

Harry watched her gaze track Chakotay as he hurried along the corridor.

"How long until Astrometrics is back up and running?" Janeway's tone was perfectly neutral, but her eyes were not.

"Uh, probably two or three days." Kim shifted his feet.

"Make it a priority. If we don't find an energy source soon –" the captain didn't bother to finish her sentence. "Let's get to Engineering."

"Aye, Captain."

===0===

(TBC)


	3. Chapter 2

_**Chapter**_ _**Two**_

 _Stardate 57935.9 – December 8,_ _2380_

The back of Tom Paris' neck was prickling.

Seven of Nine hadn't been seriously hurt in the attack four days earlier, but ever since she'd been injured Chakotay's mood had deteriorated even further. She had insisted on returning to duty immediately, only to suffer a broken arm in yet another attack, this time by a single small ship. Fortunately, there had been no damage this time to anything except Seven's arm and the crew's morale.

Strangely, Chakotay seemed to be angry with Janeway rather than Seven. Paris rolled his shoulders, trying to release some of the tension. He wondered how much longer the captain was going to put up with the first officer's bad attitude –

"Captain," Harry said urgently. "I'm detecting another ship on approach."

"Specifications?"

"The same basic hull and warp signature as the others, but this one is four times the size. Weaponry complement is about twice _Voyager_ 's. And it seems to have some kind of refractive armour plating on the hull." He met the captain's eyes. "I doubt our phasers could penetrate it."

"The nanoprobe weapons?" Janeway turned to Tuvok.

"I have resolved the problem with the firing chamber safety protocols. The torpedoes should be reasonably effective."

 _Reasonably effective?_ Tom wondered.

"Will they pierce that armour or not, Commander?" Janeway demanded.

"I believe so."

"Let's hope we don't have to put it to the test," she muttered. "Open hailing frequencies, Mr Kim."

"Channel open."

Janeway rose from her chair and Tom felt her come up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He'd often wondered if she did that to ground herself in uncertain situations. Sometimes, after a hazardous first contact, he came home with finger-shaped bruises where she'd gripped him.

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager_ to the unknown vessel on approach. We have no hostile intentions. Please respond."

"Captain, they're responding," Kim blurted, surprise clear in his voice.

"On screen."

The alien whose head and upper body filled the viewscreen looked, as far as Paris could tell, not terribly dissimilar to humans. He was broad-chested, with shoulders and biceps a weightlifter would be proud of. His skin was tawny, his eyes black, hair cropped so close to his skull it was difficult to discern its colour. Really, apart from his size, there was nothing at first glance that differentiated him from a human, apart from the thin, raised ridge that curved from his temples to the centre of his cheekbones.

At least, that was, until he smiled.

 _Vampire_ , was Paris' first thought, and his second was, _no. Viper_.

~Captain Janeway,~ the alien said in a voice as dark and smooth as the captain's coffee. ~It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Inheritor Alkin, Supreme Commander of the Fen Domar and heir to the Fen Ascendancy.~

"Inheritor," Janeway answered, trying not to raise her eyebrows at the alien's florid greeting. "Thank you for answering our hail. We find it far preferable to being shot at without provocation."

Tom could hear the way her lips quirked to the side as she spoke. He could also hear the underlying steel. From the dangerous-looking way Alkin's smile widened, so could he.

~Provocation,~ repeated the alien. ~Some would say your intrusion into our space is provocation enough.~

"But not you?"

Alkin's gaze travelled slowly over Janeway's figure from head to toe and back again – a long, lazy, deliberately _provocative_ glance. Paris felt her fingers tighten slightly on his shoulder. ~As it happens, no, Captain. But I do suffer from a trait my exalted father often bemoans in me.~

"And what's that?" Janeway's tone had noticeably cooled.

The white-fanged smile widened further. ~Curiosity.~

"Where I come from, that's a trait to be proud of. You could say it's our primary motivation."

~Well, then.~ The alien leaned slightly forward, eyes fixed on the captain's face. ~Perhaps we could satisfy our mutual curiosity in the flesh.~

Paris felt Janeway stiffen.

"We'd be pleased to welcome you aboard our ship to initiate _diplomatic_ relations," Janeway stressed slightly. "Perhaps we could also discuss a mutually beneficial trade agreement."

~I look forward to it, Captain. I'll transport to your ship in two cycles.~ Alkin grinned widely once more before the screen went blank.

"Cycles?" Janeway moved toward the Ops station.

"A cycle translates as roughly one hour, Captain."

"Good. I want all department heads to prepare their list of critical supply requirements and have them on my desk in thirty minutes. I'll be –"

"– in your ready room," Tom heard Chakotay mutter; the first words he'd spoken since Alpha shift began.

He hardly dared to look, knowing the captain's responding glare could just as easily turn on him, but at her frigid reply – "Yes, and please accompany me, Commander, if you'd be so kind" – Paris couldn't help it. He turned.

Janeway's eyes were more grey than blue, the ice in her stare more than a match for the corresponding heat in the first officer's scowl. "Aye, Captain," Chakotay drawled, unfolding himself from his chair with a deliberate lack of haste.

 _Oh, to be a fly on that wall_ , Paris mused as the command team disappeared into the ready room.

===0===

"Something you want to say to me, Commander?"

He ignored the warning in her tone, exaggerated politeness in his reply. "Is there something you'd like me to say, Captain?"

Chakotay could hear her grinding her teeth from the other side of her desk.

"Your attitude," Janeway grated out, "has bordered on insubordinate for weeks now. If you have a problem with me personally, I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from letting it bleed over into –"

"If I have a _problem_ with you?" he interrupted with heavy sarcasm hiding – he hoped – the bitter, scalding fury he was unable to force down. "Now, why on earth would you think that, Kathryn?"

"Captain," she snapped back. "This is a chain of command issue, and you'll address me appropriately."

"Of course, _Captain_. God forbid we get _personal_ –"

" _Enough_ ," she hissed, planting her hands on her desk as she leaned in closer, eyes narrowing. "Hate me all you want, but from now on you'll check your attitude before you step onto that bridge. This has to stop, Chakotay."

"I've heard that before," he shot back instantly, mirroring her stance from the opposite side of her desk, his face mere inches from hers. "And yet, despite all your protests, you keep coming back."

She flinched visibly, colour draining from her face. But before Chakotay could allow the sour fury roiling in his gut to turn to shame, Kathryn's eyes had hardened. She straightened.

"Thank you for proving my point, Commander," she said in a voice like flint. "My order stands. Readjust your attitude or I _will_ relieve you of duty." She turned away and added over her shoulder, "Dismissed."

"No."

"Excuse me?" she turned back to face him.

Chakotay's hands were low on his hips. "We need to talk."

"This is not the time –"

"About the Fen Domar," he cut her off. "Specifically, about Inheritor Alkin."

Janeway pressed her lips together. "All right. Go ahead."

"I don't like the way he looked at you."

"I beg your pardon." The warning was unmistakable.

Chakotay ignored it. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. He looked like he wanted to f-"

" _Commander_." Her tone was low and dangerous.

For a moment he looked as if he'd refuse to heed it, but then he sighed and let his hands fall to his sides. "I don't like him."

She, too, allowed her stance to relax a little, her voice to lose its sharp edge. "He's just a jumped-up bully in a big starship, Chakotay. I can handle him."

He met her gaze. "He reminds me of Kashyk."

"Then I'll handle him the same way."

Chakotay's eyes darkened again. "Meaning?"

Kathryn was already regretting it. "Never mind. Let's just get through this. Now," she straightened, chin rising, "can I count on you?"

"You're the captain," he replied evenly. "Permission to return to the bridge?"

"Dismissed," she said tightly.

It was no wonder that after every conversation with her first officer these days, she ended up with a headache.

===0===

Kathryn ordered Chakotay to take the bridge while Tuvok and Ayala escorted the visiting Fen Domar to the conference room.

She'd considered including him in the meeting. Not so long ago, she'd have insisted he be there; her first officer's observations often gave her insights into alien dignitaries that she might have otherwise missed. Now, though...

He was just too unpredictable.

 _How did we come to this?_ she wondered, only half-rhetorically, as she paced the briefing room, waiting for Alkin's arrival. _The Borg, the Void, Ransom, Teero …_ They'd weathered those storms and many others, and maybe they'd lost pieces of themselves along the way, but now?

She shook her head at her own delusion. _You know exactly how it came to this_.

"Captain."

Tuvok ushered three Fen Domar into the conference room and indicated their seats, taking his own beside Janeway. Ayala took up position at the doors.

"Inheritor Alkin." Janeway gave him her professional smile. "Welcome to _Voyager_."

"Captain Janeway." The alien arranged himself in his chair, smiling widely. "Allow me to explain what will happen next. You have trespassed on sovereign territory. As the military arm of the Fen Ascendancy, the Fen Domar are tasked with protecting its borders. And as their Supreme Commander, I allow my officers wide-ranging latitude in how they choose to effect that protection. You're fortunate, Captain, that my ship is the first that has deigned to answer your hails."

"Oh?" Janeway had gone still as the alien began speaking, her spine straightening as he continued. "How so?"

"My officers tend to be particularly … _enthusiastic_ in employing the powers I've granted them. Some prefer to shoot first and ask questions later, if ever – they do get so little target practice, you know. People tend to avoid our territory if at all possible."

"Target practice," Janeway repeated flatly. "Yes, we've already had the pleasure."

"Others, however, prefer more personal methods. It does get rather boring out here in space sometimes, Captain, as I'm sure you know. Men do need their … entertainments."

She had a strong feeling she really wasn't going to enjoy hearing Alkin elaborate.

"Many Fen are intrigued by the differences between us and alien races. Some like to study those differences up close. Peeling off an alien's skin using a _taga_ , for example," – he gestured to a small, ceremonial-looking knife at his belt – "is a favoured way of finding out what's inside."

Janeway suppressed her shudder with an effort.

"Added to that," Alkin leaned forward, looking her in the eye, "the military life can be a lonely one, Captain, and my men are not permitted to bring their women on board our ships. Enjoying the delights that alien women offer is not condoned by the Ascendant, but I prefer to allow my men latitude in this, as in other pursuits."

"If you're suggesting that I or any of the women on my crew would allow that –"

"Oh, Captain," Alkin laughed, leaning back again. "I wasn't threatening you. Not at all."

"That's fortunate."

"However, if I was," he grinned, "there's really very little you could do about it. As you can see, my ship is considerably larger and better-armed than yours, and I have no doubt my men and I could overpower your guards with little trouble."

Ayala took a single step forward from the doorway. Janeway held up a hand in warning.

"No, Captain, this is simply a friendly word of advice. You won't find many Fen Domar officers willing to be as accommodating as I am. But then, as heir to the Ascendant, I am rather unique." He leaned back in his chair. "As I mentioned, I'm curious – about your ship, and about your crew. Provide me with access to your ship's database, specifications of your engines and weapons, information on your unique technology, and I'll allow you to travel through our space unmolested."

"I'd be happy to share our cultural and astrometric databases with you, Inheritor. But the rest won't be possible. We follow a prime directive that forbids us from sharing technology with unallied species."

"What I'm proposing is a form of alliance," Alkin countered. "However, I understand your tendency toward caution, Captain. I'll accept your offer until we come to trust each other better. You may travel through Fen space, as long as you follow a simple directive of my own."

The captain lifted her chin. "And that would be ..?"

"My navigator will plot a course through Fen territory and transmit it to your pilot. Follow this course and do not deviate from it for any reason, and I will offer your ship my personal protection."

"That's a generous offer." She studied him. "However, my ship and crew are in need of supplies. I was hoping we could discuss a trade."

"A trade," Alkin grinned. "How delightful. Yes, by all means. I can supply your ship with edibles and whatever other substances you need."

"Thank you. We have a number of rare minerals on board that you may find useful, and the ability to synthesise hundreds of others."

"Oh, I don't require minerals, Captain." Alkin rose slowly from his seat and moved around the table, leaning a hip against its edge.

Ayala took two steps forward.

"Stand down, Lieutenant," Janeway warned. She turned her attention back to Alkin, her head tilted back to meet his eyes as he leaned in close. "What is it that you want, Inheritor?"

"Just a little companionship, Captain." Alkin's black eyes were turning a smoky grey colour as he swept his gaze over her. "My men aren't the only ones who get lonely in space. And I'm sure you and I would have a _wonderful_ time getting to know each other better."

She'd barely opened her mouth to offer a scathing reply when her words – and Alkin's breath – were abruptly cut off by the lightning-fast motion of a Vulcan hand clenching around the Fen's broad neck.

"Do not speak to Captain Janeway in that way." Tuvok's voice was thick with – _anger?_ Janeway looked to him quickly. The Vulcan's usually composed features were twisted.

Alkin's men had jumped to their feet, hands on their knives. Ayala had his phaser drawn.

"Commander Tuvok," Janeway hissed. "Stand. _Down_."

Slowly, Tuvok's hand uncurled from Alkin's throat, the Vulcan clearly struggling to regain his control. The alien inhaled deeply and turned now-black eyes on Janeway.

"I should kill you where you stand for that," he said calmly.

Janeway stared back at him. "Need I remind you, Inheritor, that you're on _my_ ship?"

He straightened, smile back in place. "I look forward to seeing you again, Captain. In the meantime, you have a long journey through the Ascendancy, and my protection would be of great value to you. Reconsider my offer."

He jerked his head at his men and strode for the door, Ayala's phaser still pointed at his back.

===0===

"I'm afraid Mr Tuvok's neurological condition has deteriorated far more rapidly than my simulations predicted." The Doctor's holographic face was grave. "He will continue to exhibit more and more volatile behaviour, with full loss of emotional control expected within the year."

"I see." Kathryn stared at the Doctor's console, where Tuvok's brain scan was riddled with red dots showing the increasing disintegration of his neural pathways. "What about your nanoprobe treatment? You haven't had any success?"

"The nanoprobe therapy can help strengthen the physical pathways and reduce the pain he's suffering, but there's nothing I can do to slow Tuvok's emotional degradation, Captain." The EMH's voice was gentle. "I'm very sorry."

"So am I." Janeway rose. "Thank you, Doctor. I know you're doing everything you can."

By sheer force of will, she managed to hold it together until she was alone in the turbolift.

"Halt 'lift," she managed to gasp as she bent over, fighting for air. Her lungs seemed to have tightened into clenched fists, and as she struggled to breathe she dropped to hands and knees, harsh sobs tearing out of her chest. In some rational part of her brain she knew her eyes were dry, but that was scant comfort.

It took several minutes, but she managed to wrestle back her control. Curling up on the floor of the 'lift, she waited until the shaking in her arms and legs had diminished to a fine tremor, and then she hauled herself upright.

"Resume 'lift."

By the time she stepped out on the bridge, the captain's mask was firmly back in place.

===0===

"This is the course the Fen Domar want us to follow." Janeway turned her monitor so Chakotay could see it. "It looks as though their territory spans about three sectors. At warp six – which is the highest speed we can afford to sustain – it'll take us almost two months to travel through it."

"Any indication of supply opportunities along this path?"

"None so far."

Chakotay leaned back in his chair. "Given our dwindling energy stores, I don't see that we have any choice but to cut back to two meals a day until we can resupply."

Janeway said nothing.

"Captain?"

She got up and moved to the upper level of her ready room, staring out at the stars. "Inheritor Alkin offered us a trade for the supplies we need."

"So I heard." Chakotay followed, standing by her left shoulder. "His price is too high."

"Is it?" she asked quietly.

Chakotay moved in front of her, forcing her to face him. "I can't believe you'd even say that."

She stared at him. "Can't you? We're talking about the survival of our crew, Chakotay."

"No, we're talking about their comfort. We can easily survive on two meals per day. We'll all just have to tighten our belts a little."

"And then what?" she asked without heat. "When we still can't find food or energy sources in a month, do we reduce to one meal a day?"

"Some things are more important than survival, Kathryn."

She smiled faintly. "I appreciate your concern, Chakotay, but it's misplaced. Alkin doesn't frighten me."

"It's not about that." Chakotay took her upper arms in his hands, holding her gently. "This is about you. I won't let you sacrifice yourself in this way."

"I don't see how you can stop me," she replied, but the challenge was absent from her voice.

"I don't suppose I can." His thumbs stroked her shoulders, eyes locked on hers. "So I'm asking you. Please don't do this, Kathryn. We'll find another way."

She read the emotions in his eyes and nodded. "All right. Two meals a day. For now."

She reached up a hand to his face, fingers lightly tracing his tattoo, and he leaned into her touch.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Kathryn let her hand drop and stepped back. "I guess we'd better inform our crew."

===0===

 _Stardate 57942.3 – December 10, 2380_

"You are late."

Chakotay tossed his jacket over a chair. "Sorry, Seven. The captain and I were going over tactical protocols." He dropped onto the couch with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "With Tuvok on light duties and Ayala still coming up to speed as his eventual replacement, the captain wants to make sure we're familiar with all the details."

Seven swivelled from her seat at their dining table and he noticed for the first time that she'd discarded her uniform as well. She was wearing a red knit dress that hugged every impressive curve, and her hair was down and loosely curled. Chakotay's gaze wandered to the table. It was set with fine china and a single small candle burned in its centre.

"Did I forget a special occasion?" he asked warily.

"No." Seven stood, smoothing her skirt. "I asked Crewman Chell to have our meal sent down from the mess hall. I wanted to discuss something with you in a more conducive setting."

"Conducive to what?" Chakotay straightened.

"To the topic of our discussion." Seven came over and sat beside him, reaching for his hand. "Chakotay, do you want children?"

He'd jerked his hand out of her grasp before he could stop himself.

"I see," she said quietly.

"Seven –" He watched as her big blue eyes filled with tears and her lips quivered. " _Shit_. I'm sorry. You just caught me by surprise."

He made himself reach out and take her hands again.

"Your answer?" she asked in a strangled voice.

"It's a big decision," he hedged. "And right now – Seven, the ship is under rationing. It's not a good time to be thinking about bringing a child into the world. Especially as yours would be a high-risk pregnancy."

She stared at him with eyes that still held the remnants of tears. "And after we've escaped Fen space?"

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Do you want children or not, Chakotay?" she demanded.

"Yes," he snapped back, "I always have. I do."

"But not with me."

He went still. "What?"

"If _she_ were asking this question right now, what would your answer be?"

Chakotay swallowed. " _She_ – who? What are you talking about?"

Seven pulled her hands away. "The captain."

"Seven, I don't know what you're –"

"You _reek_ of her," she said flatly.

He felt sick. "We were working in close quarters. Seven, there's nothing –"

"Stop lying." Her voice was choked. "I _know_. I've always known."

Chakotay could hardly speak. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did." She stood, watching him. "You have to choose."

===0===

(TBC)


	4. Chapter 3

_**Chapter**_ _**Three**_

 _Stardate 57947.1 – December 12, 2380_

"She fainted?" Janeway levelled a stare at the Doctor. "Why? We've only been rationing for four days now. Surely that's not long enough for people to start –"

"She's pregnant."

Kathryn sagged back against the nearest biobed, her gaze drifting to the woman now sleeping peacefully in a neighbouring bed.

"Oh," was all she managed.

"Captain."

"Yes," she said dimly, wondering if it was tempting the fates to ask them if things could possibly get any worse.

"As you may recall from Lieutenant Torres' previous pregnancy, expectant Klingon mothers require a significant amount of additional nutrition. If she fails to get it, both she and the foetus will be at risk."

The captain straightened. "Reallocate my daily replicator allotment to B'Elanna and use it to synthesise nutritional supplements. I'll speak to Chell about making sure she receives three meals a day."

"Captain, you can't –"

"Just do it, Doctor." She strode out of Sickbay.

===0===

 _Stardate 57955.2 – December 15, 2380_

Janeway pressed her fingers to her aching temples as Lieutenant Kim wrapped up his report.

"… and that little skirmish yesterday drained the power reserves a further five percent."

"I thought Inheritor Alkin offered us his protection," Paris grumbled. "Seems we're still easy bait for any Fen ships that decide to take a pot shot at us."

"Alkin's offer was contingent on something we weren't prepared to give him," Chakotay clipped out. "We'll have to put up with the pot shots for now."

Tom subsided.

"B'Elanna?"

"I've been studying the readings we took of the hull armour on Alkin's ship, and with a little modification, I think we can install it on _Voyager_."

"That could give us a significant advantage." Janeway managed a half-smile for what felt like the first time in days. "Seven, Harry, I want you to work with B'Elanna. This is now your top priority."

"Aye, Captain," Harry answered. Seven gave her a short nod.

"What about looking for food and energy sources?" Chakotay cut in.

"If we don't find a way to defend ourselves against these Fen attacks, there won't be anyone left to feed – or a ship left to power." Janeway stood. "But have your teams continue long-range sensor sweeps and report anything promising to Commander Chakotay."

"There's another option, Captain," Chakotay said.

"Yes?" she asked, hand on hip.

"We can still reverse course. Find another way around Fen space. We'd clear their borders in a couple of weeks."

"And then what?" Janeway asked, trying hard to hide her impatience. "We'd likely spend those two weeks fighting off further attacks, and there's no guarantee we'd find ourselves in a better situation at the end of it."

"What's the alternative?" Chakotay demanded, rising to his feet. "We spend the next six weeks at the mercy of the Fen Domar? Do you trust Alkin to protect us? Because, given yesterday's attack, I certainly don't."

"Alkin has already informed me that he's reissued his order to all ships in this region to leave us alone," Janeway retorted.

"At what price?"

"You're out of line, Commander." Janeway's voice was low, eyes snapping a warning Chakotay didn't heed.

"I want it on the record that I object to your decision." His hands were low on his hips now, mirroring her stance.

She opened her mouth, thought better of it, and nodded tightly. "Your objections are noted. Now, if there's nothing else, this briefing is over. Commander, remain behind, please."

Tom tried hard not to glance in the direction of the command team, whose eyes were locked on each other as the senior staff filed out.

"Here we are again," Kathryn said shortly when they were alone.

"So it seems."

She pressed her lips together, eyes cold. "I told you last time we spoke about this that I'd relieve you of duty if you continued to be insubordinate. Do I have to carry out that threat?"

"Insubordinate?" Chakotay's eyebrows rose. "As I recall, offering alternatives is the first officer's _job_."

"And if you had offered those alternatives in private conference, or in a manner that didn't directly challenge my authority, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Conversation," he repeated. "Is that what you'd call it? It's been so long since we had a _conversation_ , Kathryn, I'm not sure I'd recognise one."

" _Captain_ ," she snapped. "I'm your commanding officer, not your –"

"My what?" he demanded as she clamped her mouth shut. "My friend?" He moved closer. "We haven't been friends for a long time, _Kathryn_."

Despite herself, she flinched.

"And as to what else we are," he stepped right up into her personal space, "how would you define that? Lovers? Too kind a word for it. Maybe we're just people who fuck."

Her lips parted in shock, and he took advantage, his mouth coming down on hers in a bruising, punishing kiss. His hands clamped over her arms, his thigh pushed between hers, holding her still as she struggled against him. He swept his tongue inside her mouth and she growled in fury, her teeth sinking into his lower lip.

" _Fuck_ ," Chakotay growled, pulling away from her, his fingers pressed to the blood on his lip.

Kathryn stood breathing hard, fists clenched at her sides.

"Don't you _ever_ touch me again," she said in a voice so low he almost couldn't hear her. "I don't care what your problems are. I don't care if you're angry and regretful because you married a woman you don't love. From now on, leave me out of it. This is _over_ , Chakotay. I mean it this time."

"She knows."

The colour drained out of her face. "What?"

"Seven knows about us. She's known all along."

" _How?_ "

He shook his head, dabbing at his lip. "Does it matter?"

"Oh, God." She slumped into the nearest chair. "She must hate me."

"She loves you." Chakotay sat warily opposite her, watching her face. "Funny thing, Kathryn. When it comes to you, the two emotions are pretty closely connected."

Her eyes welled with tears. "I never wanted you to hate me, Chakotay."

"You never wanted me to love you, either." He shrugged. "Even the great Captain Janeway doesn't always get what she wants."

A tear slipped down her cheek and he reached to wipe it away with his thumb. She jerked back.

Chakotay's jaw tightened.

"I meant what I said, Chakotay." Kathryn scrubbed the tears from under her eyes with the heel of her hand. "We can't go on like this. You chose to marry her. And –"

She took in a deep breath and steeled herself to speak the lie that would break his heart … again.

"And I don't love you."

She watched as his eyes drained of tenderness. When he spoke, there was nothing but ice in his voice.

"Seven years ago, you told me you couldn't imagine a day without me." He stood, looking down at her. "Now, I wish we'd never met."

Janeway's voice was perfectly controlled. "Dismissed, Commander."

She waited until he'd gone before she let the tears come again, staring at the alien stars through the viewport and trying not to think about one of the most selfish and hurtful decisions she had ever made.

===0===

 _Stardate 57384.8 – May 20, 2380 – Seven Months Earlier_

" _Enter," Kathryn called absently. She heard the door to her quarters slide open, but was so engrossed in reading the security report that it took her some time to realise that the person who'd entered had remained silent._

 _When she looked up, Chakotay was standing at attention just inside the doors. "Commander," she greeted him, uncurling her legs from beneath her. "What can I do for you?"_

" _May I speak with you, Captain?"_

" _Of course." She cocked her head to one side, mouth curling. "At ease."_

 _She waved him to the couch and he sat, shoulders rigid with tension. His gaze moved restlessly from the coffee table to the viewport to the far wall, until finally she sat forward and dipped her head, trying to catch his eyes._

" _What is it, Chakotay?"_

 _He let his gaze rest on her face at last. "I need to ask you something," he said, "and I'm nervous about it."_

" _Why?"_

" _Because I have no idea how you're going to react."_

 _She put her PADD down and straightened up, sipping at the coffee she held in her other hand. "I've always found the best way is just to ask."_

" _All right." He took a steadying breath. "I want to ask if you'll marry me."_

 _The coffee cup slipped from her suddenly nerveless hand and thumped, unnoticed, on the carpet._

" _What –?"_

 _Chakotay scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I mean, if you'll officiate at my wedding."_

" _Your wedding." Kathryn swallowed around her suddenly dry throat. "You're marrying Seven."_

 _At her flat, expressionless tone, Chakotay's eyes narrowed. "Is there some reason you think I shouldn't be?"_

 _She muttered something under her breath._

" _I didn't catch that."_

" _I said, I can think of a few." She stood and paced a few steps away, arms folded around her body. "But you're an adult. My opinion doesn't matter." She glanced back at him, over her shoulder. "At least, it shouldn't."_

 _Chakotay rose slowly to his feet, face darkening. "If you've got something to say, Captain, just say it."_

" _Take my own advice, you mean?" she smiled without mirth._

 _He waited, watching her as she moved over to the bureau and sloshed a healthy slug of whiskey into a tumbler, hesitated, then poured a second glass. She walked toward him slowly, and if there was a slight extra sway to her hips as she moved, she didn't care. She handed him a glass and raised her own._

" _To true love," she said with heavy sarcasm, and tipped the contents of her tumbler down her throat._

 _Chakotay bent to shove his glass onto the coffee table and faced her, jaw clenched. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Kathryn?"_

" _Ah." She tilted her head to the side, mouth curling. "I'm Kathryn now, am I? It's been a while, Chakotay."_

" _That's the way you want it, isn't it?" He took a step toward her. "You've made that pretty clear. You're not Kathryn anymore." Another step. "You're the captain, and you don't need anyone."_

 _The half-smile faded from her face and she stared up at him, inches from her. "Is that really what you think?" There was a hitch in her breath that made his heart speed up and his body tense. "That I don't need anyone?"_

" _You tell me." His voice was low. "I thought you needed me once. I thought you loved me. But what else am I supposed to think when you've spent the past – I don't know how long – pushing me away?"_

 _Her throat worked. "I'm not pushing you away now," she whispered, and then her lips were on his and her fingers threaded into his hair, and her body pressed against him, and –_

===0===

And she'd woken with a start in the early hours of the morning, naked and tangled up in his arms.

She'd shaken him awake immediately, barely able to look at him, almost rigid with shame and guilt. She'd told him to go. And Chakotay – He didn't understand. He'd leave Seven, he said. They could be together. At long last.

And she'd said the words that drove the hope from his eyes.

 _This didn't mean anything, Chakotay_.

Four days later she'd put on her dress uniform and performed their wedding ceremony with serene smile and steady voice, not a hair out of place.

Three weeks after he married Seven, she and Chakotay were working late in her ready room when her hand brushed his, purely by accident, as she passed him a PADD. She'd felt him go still, and when she looked into his eyes she'd had to suck in a breath, a hot wave of desire punching through her. He'd swayed toward her, said "Kathryn," and that was all it took. She was straddling him, her tongue in his mouth and her hand working feverishly into his pants before she could take her next breath.

She was consumed with regret afterwards, and told him it had been a mistake and could never happen again.

But it did happen again. And again, and again. And each time, afterwards, he looked at her with a little less hope in his eyes, and each time she crushed it. Again.

And now it was over.

Janeway brushed away the last of the useless tears drying on her cheeks, pulled her shoulders straight and returned to the bridge.

===0===

 _Stardate 57987.3 – December 27, 2380_

Christmas had passed, forgotten, and it wasn't until two days later that Janeway realised it.

It was probably for the best, she decided as she forced herself not to think about Indiana and snow angels and the wonky, finger-painted tree decorations she and Phoebe had made as children. There would have been no laughter, no gifts, no feast in the mess hall this year. Not now that the crew was down to one cooked meal and one ration pack each day.

She'd taken to wearing an extra turtleneck under her uniform. It gave her the much-needed illusion of extra bulk, as well as additional warmth. The environmental controls were running at seventy-five percent to conserve energy, lowering the ship's ambient temperature to a chilly sixteen degrees Celsius, but she'd have been cold anyway. Losing almost fifteen percent of your body weight would do that to a person; especially when a body hadn't held much weight to begin with.

Her hands shook slightly as she fastened the pips to her collar.

She was worried about B'Elanna. Despite her orders to Chell and the Doctor to ensure the expectant mother – and the children on board – still received three meals a day and adequate vitamin supplements, the lack of fresh fruit and vegetables was taking its toll. And B'Elanna had never been one to let pregnancy curb her working habits. Twice in the past week, Janeway had had to order her away from Engineering in the ungodly hours of the morning.

Kathryn stood in front of the mirror and assessed her appearance. Sallow skin, hollow cheeks, a uniform that hung on her shrinking frame, knobby wrists extending from her jacket sleeves every time she moved her arm. "At least I still have my hair," she addressed the mirror sarcastically, and turned to go. It was time for the senior staff briefing.

===0===

"It's not working." Torres prowled the briefing room, frustration written in every line of her body. "Every simulation we've run has failed. The armour just takes too much power, and with our energy reserves down to fifty-three percent, we can't hold it stable."

"The protocol required to generate the ablative armour is also incompatible with _Voyager_ 's shield frequency." Seven remained composed, hands folded on the table before her. "Even if we could activate the armour, should it fail, the ship would be unprotected by standard shields."

"All right." Janeway held up a hand. "If we could replenish our power reserves, that would solve one problem. B'Elanna, keep working on a way to stabilise the armour. Seven, see what you can do to further extend the astrometric sensors. We need energy and food sources as a matter of increasing urgency. Tuvok," she hesitated, "and Lieutenant Ayala, I want you to find a shield frequency that won't be incompatible with the armour, if we ever get it working." She stood behind her chair, hands gripping the back of it. "Dismissed, everyone."

She bowed her head as they exited, staring unseeingly at the table's smooth surface. _Go_ , she mentally urged them, swallowing against the nausea rising in her throat. _Just go_.

"Captain."

 _Damn it, not now!_ "Yes?"

Tom Paris had stayed behind and was shifting his feet nervously. "I just wanted to make sure you're all right."

"I'm fine." She straightened with effort, and sent him a quick smile as she gathered her PADDs from the table. "Let's get back to the –"

She stumbled, knees giving out beneath her, feet tangling. Paris rushed forward and caught her before she hit the deck, and she grabbed onto his shoulder as if it were a lifeline. Her head hung as she gasped for breath, eyes shut tight against the rush of blood in her ears.

"Easy," Tom said soothingly, smoothing her hair back from her face as he held her upright with his other arm. "Captain, can you make it to a chair?"

She didn't answer. He could see beads of perspiration dotting her hairline.

"Okay. All right." Gently, he slid his arm under her knees and lifted her. "Christ, you weigh about as much as Miral. Come on, I'm taking you to Sickbay."

" _No_." Janeway gripped onto his jacket, opening her eyes just enough to glare at him. Her voice was breathy, halting. "I'm … fine, Lieutenant. I just … need a minute."

He hesitated, then deposited her gently in a chair and crouched before her, fingers on the pulse point in her wrist. "Your heart rate is sluggish and I'm willing to bet your blood pressure is through the floor. You need medical treatment, Captain, and I'm not taking no for an answer." He stood, tapping his commbadge. "Paris to Sickbay. Doctor, I need you to bring a standard nutrition kit to the conference room immediately. And please be discreet."

~On my way, Mr Paris.~

Janeway had recovered a little, colour starting to return to her thin, drawn face. Her glare intensified. "I should … demote you again … Mr Paris."

He grinned. "Wait til you get your breath back, then you can bust me down to crewman if you like."

The Doctor bustled into the room, tricorder at the ready, and tutted at the readings. "You've lost almost eight kilograms and have a severe electrolyte imbalance, Captain. It looks like you haven't been ingesting your daily nutrition allotment. Your condition shouldn't be so serious at this stage, even with your unwisely altruistic tendencies."

"Altruistic tendencies?" Paris raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, the captain saw fit to reallocate her replicator rations to your wi-"

"Doctor," Janeway snapped.

"You what?" Paris turned to stare at her. "You gave your rations to B'Elanna?"

Janeway's glare bounced off the Doctor's matrix. "She needs them more than I do," she growled.

"I beg to differ," the EMH sniffed, loading a hypospray. "This will restore your electrolyte balance and inject some much-needed vitamins into your bloodstream. However, Captain, I must stress that you need to –"

" _All right_ , Doctor," she snarled. "Get on with it, will you? I'm needed on the bridge."

The Doctor subsided, muttering. "You're free to go, Captain, but I'd like you to check in with me every forty-eight hours so I can be sure –"

"Thank you, Doctor," she cut him off again, levering herself to her feet. "You're dismissed."

Rolling his eyes, the EMH departed.

"Captain," Tom said quietly. "We can't accept this. You can't starve yourself for us."

"I'm not starving, Tom." She patted his shoulder. "I'll be fine. You just take care of your family and let me worry about the rest."

She swept out of the briefing room without giving him a chance to protest further.

===0===

 _Stardate 58006.4 – January 3, 2381_

Janeway had followed the Doctor's orders – under protest – and reported to Sickbay every second day for a shot of vitamins, but it couldn't stop the weight loss. A week later she'd had to unpick the elastic out of an old pair of sweats and sew it into the waist of her far-too-loose uniform pants. Her hands trembled almost constantly now, and she'd started finding herself out of breath after climbing up a couple of Jeffries tubes.

She wasn't the only one suffering. There had been three more instances of crewmen blacking out on duty – Ensign Harper had come off the worst, having fainted while working on an open plasma relay in Jeffries tube 28; if Lieutenant Nicoletti hadn't happened to come by less than a minute later, Harper's burns could have been fatal – and people were making mistakes out of fatigue and loss of concentration. Janeway had stopped taking her single daily meal in the mess hall, preferring to have Chell send it to her ready room. The gallows humour among the crew – Crewman Dalby had a running daily gag about how many new ribs he'd discovered – was more than she could bear.

So when Seven announced at the daily briefing that she'd detected a planet on long-range sensors that seemed a promising source of both dilithium and edible vegetation, Janeway ordered Lieutenant Paris to set an immediate course.

The buoyant mood of the senior staff as she gave the order was not shared by Commander Chakotay.

"Permission to speak freely," he said abruptly, when they were left alone in the briefing room.

Kathryn gave him a short nod.

"That planet is almost six light years off the course Alkin prescribed for us."

"Your point?"

"If we go off course, we run the risk of Fen attacks."

"We haven't heard a peep from Alkin in over a week. And the only Fen Domar ships within sensor range are scout vessels. Even in our current state we're more than a match for them."

"We still have the option of turning back, retreating from Fen space."

"And then what?" she demanded. "It would take us almost a month to clear their territory, and in the meantime, our energy reserves continue to drop and people starve. Our situation is desperate. We can reach that planet in thirty hours, Chakotay. I'm willing to take the risk."

For a moment, she thought he'd raise his voice, loom over her, argue. But all the fight seemed to go out of him, and he sagged into a chair, rubbing a hand over his drawn, tired face.

"What is it?" she asked cautiously.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he said haltingly. "I can't explain it. I just know in my bones that going to that planet is a bad, bad idea."

She lowered herself to the chair beside him, studying him. They'd barely spoken since she'd told him – what she'd told him. Whenever he was forced to be in her vicinity he'd radiated anger – and, she thought, shame – and it had been weeks since he'd looked her in the eye.

He was looking now. Distant, certainly; angry, definitely. But it was subdued, and the main thing she was reading from him now was a wary, hopeful kind of pleading.

"I would never dismiss your instincts, Chakotay," she said carefully. "But I don't believe we have a choice. If we don't find what we need on that planet, we probably won't make it out of Fen space alive."

"Then _turn back_ ," he pleaded, reaching for her hands and holding them – not tightly, just earnestly. "Turn the ship around and get us out of Fen space before it's too late. _Please_ , Kathryn."

She looked down at their hands – his thinner than she'd ever seen them, but still dwarfing her own twiglike fingers – and closed her eyes for a moment, wishing with all her heart that things were different. But they weren't. This was her life, and she was the captain. She opened her eyes and pulled her hands from his.

"I'm sorry, Commander, but this is my call to make. We go to that planet."

The last of the hope died in his eyes, and she wondered if the last of his feelings for her had gone with it. He nodded, once, and quietly left the room.

===0===

"You're not going on this mission, B'Elanna, and that's final."

Torres took in a breath to argue yet again, met her captain's steady blue gaze, and conceded defeat.

"Good," Janeway said, softening her sharp tone with a slight smile. "Seven, you'll lead the dilithium extraction team. Ensign Wildman will be in charge of the team gathering edibles. Chell, your expertise will also be required. We'll beam you down within the hour and I want status updates from each team leader every fifteen minutes. In the meantime, Commander Chakotay will take the _Drake_ and Ensign Jenkins will pilot the _Sacajawea_ to scout for other substances of use, as well as making regular passes over the away teams to monitor their progress and status. _Voyager_ will remain in low orbit and the surface teams will be recalled at the first sign of any trouble from the Fen Domar, so make sure you follow protocol and keep your people close. Questions?"

Wildman, Chell and Jenkins shook their heads.

"Dismissed, then. And good luck."

She averted her eyes from Chakotay's tense, reproachful gaze as they scurried to follow her orders, turning to the viewport. When Seven spoke from behind her, she jumped.

"I wish to speak with you."

Janeway steeled herself. "Yes, Ensign?" she answered without turning, her tone deliberately forbidding.

It didn't deter Seven; not that she'd really expected it to.

"I'm not speaking to you as my captain."

Kathryn could hear the quiver of hurt underlying Seven's flat voice. _You owe her this_ , she told herself firmly, and turned to face her protégée.

"Go ahead, Seven," she said quietly.

"Chakotay and I wish to leave _Voyager_."

"What?" She knew the colour was draining from her face, and she couldn't blame Seven for the gleam of satisfaction she saw in those blue eyes.

"We came to the decision several days ago. He has not yet addressed it with you, so I've taken it upon myself to do so."

It was hard to speak around the ache in her throat. "You don't have to leave, Seven. It's over between us."

"There should never have _been_ anything between you," Seven shot back, icy exterior cracking.

"You're right. There shouldn't have." Kathryn forced herself to meet Seven's stare. "It was inexcusable. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Seven shrugged a blue-and-black shoulder. "Your apology is irrelevant. As soon as we are clear of the Fen Ascendancy, we want you to scan for a suitable planet housing an amenable post-warp civilisation. It must be sufficiently technologically advanced to enable me to contribute to its society as well as tolerant of my husband's spiritual beliefs."

"Seven ..." Janeway reached out a hand, thought better of it and returned it awkwardly to her side. "Please reconsider. I give you my word I won't interfere in your lives again."

"I have decided to trust my husband." Seven straightened further. "But I don't trust you. Aside from necessary interaction during your duty shifts, you will avoid contact with Chakotay. Do you understand?"

"And how does Chakotay feel about this?" Kathryn couldn't help asking.

"That's not your concern, Kathryn." It was the first time she'd ever heard Seven use her given name. "He chose _me_."

 _No_ , she thought. _He didn't_.

But she held her tongue.

Seven held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded sharply and left the room.

Later, much later, the image that would not stop playing in her mind's eye was of Seven's gaunt, sharp-cheekboned face, rigid with barely-suppressed pain at her betrayal by the two people she loved the most.

===0===

(TBC)


	5. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

 _Stardate 58012.6 – January 5, 2381_

There was no other word for it, Ayala thought: this planet was ugly.

Of course, he was with Seven's team, the one tasked with mining the dilithium vein they'd detected. Wildman's team – the one looking for edible food sources – had been transported half a continent away where the vegetation was lush and the climate temperate.

Not like this dustbowl. Ayala pulled out a protective fabric strip from his pack and tied it over his mouth and nose; it had an inbuilt filter that would protect his airways from the worst of the fine, sandy red silicate whipping around his feet. He wore clear goggles over his eyes, and instead of the regular uniform, his team was decked out in utility gear.

Shouldering his pack again, he adjusted his grip on his phaser rifle and fell into step behind Crewman Sofin.

"Ensign Seven to _Voyager_ ," he heard. "We have arrived at the coordinates and will commence scanning for the optimum access point to the dilithium deposits. I will report again at 1421 hours. Seven out."

Funny how Seven had become such a stickler for Starfleet mission protocols ever since Janeway commissioned her, Ayala mused. Then again, he supposed, it was in her nature to adapt.

And they'd all be following protocol on this mission, as risky as it was.

Inheritor Alkin's ship had hailed them when _Voyager_ was still two hours out from the planet. Ayala had been stationed at Tactical when the call came in.

 _~You've deviated from your prescribed course, Captain Janeway,~ Alkin noted._

" _We need supplies," was Janeway's abrupt answer._

 _~Supplies I offered you,~ Alkin shot back._

 _Janeway shrugged. "As my first officer would say, your price was too high."_

 _Alkin's dark gaze had shifted from the captain to Chakotay. ~Interesting,~ he murmured, smiling. ~Nonetheless, Captain, my warning stands. Return to your previous course and heading or endure the consequences.~_

 _Janeway ordered Harry to close the channel without responding. "How far away are they?" she demanded._

" _Four hours from our position," Harry replied._

" _Good. That should give us enough time to get what we need and be on our way."_

" _And when the Fen catch up with us?" Chakotay interjected. Ayala could tell he was deliberately keeping his voice even._

" _Then we do what we can to avoid the consequences. I want all department heads to convene in the briefing room in one hour with full systems status reports. We'll work on contingencies then."_

By the time _Voyager_ reached the nameless planet, Alkin's ship had made up some time and was only three hours behind them. The away teams would need to work fast.

Ayala glanced up as the _Drake_ , the shuttle Chakotay was piloting, made a low pass overhead.

Seven's commbadge chirped and she pressed it to open the channel. "Go ahead, Commander."

~I've detected a rocky formation ninety kilometres west of your position that contains diamagnetic ore deposits,~ Chakotay's tone was brisk and professional. ~I'm heading over to see if I can beam some of it out, and I'll return within the hour to confirm your status.~

"Acknowledged, Commander."

~See you soon. Chakotay out.~

"Crewman Sofin," Seven called. "Insert the laser cutter into this rock cavity. Crewman Gilmore, set up the transport enhancers and prepare to beam the crystals to _Voyager_ as soon as we have completed extraction."

"Aye, sir," Ayala heard them chorus. He watched the engineers for a moment as they worked with calm efficiency, then turned his attention to scanning the horizon, just in case they had any early visitors.

===0===

Seven of Nine had informed her husband, a few nights before the away mission, that she intended to seek advice from the Doctor on neutralising the remaining Borg nanoprobes that could affect her ability to reproduce. She also suggested Chakotay have his sperm count and motility assessed, given that he was "no longer of optimum age to promote conception", as she'd put it.

 _Sometimes_ , Chakotay thought as he swung the _Drake_ in a wide arc over the barren landscape, _there's just a little too much Borg left in the girl_.

He knew, intellectually, that reverting to Collective-speak was Seven's way of obscuring her uncertainty. Most times he was inclined to be charitable about it. But his tolerance for her peculiarities had been low of late.

His tolerance for many things had been low of late.

His uneasy conscience, however, prevented him from resisting the plans Seven was making for them, no matter how they secretly alarmed him. So he'd told her he'd make an appointment with the Doctor; what could it hurt to find out if he was fertile? It wasn't as though he planned to _do_ anything about it. Not now.

Then she'd told him she wanted them to leave _Voyager_.

" _No," he said flatly. "I can't leave. I have a duty to this crew, and with Tuvok's condition degenerating –"_

" _Lieutenant Ayala is well able to fulfil the position of tactical officer. And there are a number of crew who could step into your role."_

" _Thanks for the vote of confidence," he muttered. "I'm not sure Kathr- the captain would agree with you."_

" _She will adapt."_

 _He sent her a pained look. "Seven, if this is about –"_

" _It is," she broke in._

" _It's over."_

" _Chakotay…" She'd shifted closer, taking his hands, and he'd seen the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "Do you love me?"_

 _He'd hesitated a fraction too long, and the tears spilled over._

" _Seven –"_ Damn it _. "I married you, not her."_

" _Then leave with me."_

 _Leave, he thought. Leave the ship that had become his home, the crew who'd become his family, B'Elanna, Miral, Naomi._

 _Leave Kathryn. Who'd left him, over and over again._

" _All right," he'd said quietly. "All right. But let me break it to her."_

" _Do it soon, or I will," Seven had answered, and then she'd stood, leading him into their bedroom, and as he went through the motions of making love to his wife, Chakotay had closed his eyes and told himself he wasn't thinking of anyone else._

Chakotay glided the shuttle to a smooth landing and gathered up tricorder and transport enhancers. "Chakotay to _Voyager_ ," he hailed. "I've located the diamagnetic ore and will begin transport shortly."

~Acknowledged,~ the captain replied. ~Be advised that Inheritor Alkin's ship has increased speed and will now reach our position in a little over two hours. Work quickly, Commander.~

"Understood," he answered grimly, and set to work.

===0===

~Wildman to _Voyager_. We've collected six barrels of edible roots and leafy vegetation and are ready to beam them up. Crewman Chell and Ensign Celes have detected a herd of animals two kilometres west of our position and are making their way there. They claim they both have hunting experience and Chell believes he'll be able to preserve whatever, uh, meat they manage to obtain.~

Janeway could hear the discomfort in Wildman's voice. "Acknowledged, Ensign. I understand many of us would prefer not to hunt, but this is no time to be squeamish. As soon as you've completed transporting the barrels I want you and Andrews to join the rest of your team."

~Yes, Captain.~

" _Voyager_ out." The captain eased back in her chair. "Mr Kim, position of the Fen Domar ship?"

"Point seven light years away, ma'am. They'll reach the planet in ninety minutes at current speed."

"Damn it," she muttered. "Advise all away teams to hurry it up, Harry. Tuvok, I want all weapons ready, just in case we have to fight our way out of here. B'Elanna," she turned to the engineering station on the bridge, "please tell me you've figured out how to stabilise that ablative armour?"

The engineer sent her an apologetic look. "I can get it online, but with our power reserves at critical I can't guarantee it won't destabilise, Captain."

"All right. Just do the best you can. Tuvok, be ready to reactivate shields in case the armour fails. Go to yellow alert."

"Aye, Captain," he replied.

Janeway tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair and settled in to endure her least favourite pastime: waiting.

===0===

"That's it, Ensign. The vein is tapped out." Brian Sofin switched off his laser drill. "Should Marla and I move onto the next site or wait while this lot gets beamed up?"

"Remain here," Seven answered. "We will need _Voyager_ to transport us to the next viable mining site."

They watched as the pile of dilithium crystals dematerialised.

"Seven to Commander Chakotay."

~Go ahead.~

"We are relocating to the secondary mining site, Commander. Lieutenant Kim advises that the Fen Domar vessel has increased to warp eight point two and will now reach our position in thirty-eight minutes."

~Understood. I'm almost finished here. Meet you at the next site. Chakotay out.~

Sofin and Ayala shouldered the heaviest of the extraction equipment, and at Seven's order the team dematerialised.

===0===

"Time, Harry?"

"Inheritor Alkin's ship will be in weapons range in less than fifteen minutes, Captain."

"Hail them."

"They're responding."

Janeway rose from her chair as the viewscreen came on. "Inheritor," she greeted, her voice neutral.

~Captain. Such a pleasure to see you again. Although it disappoints me that you've seen fit to ignore my directive.~

"As I explained when we last spoke, Inheritor, we're in need of food and minerals. This planet offered our only chance to obtain them. We had no choice."

~Not your only chance,~ Alkin smiled. ~And I made your choice perfectly clear.~

Before she could reply, the viewscreen went blank.

Janeway turned to Kim. "Status of the away teams?"

"Alpha team has almost completed extraction of the dilithium at the second site. Commander Chakotay's shuttle is currently surveying a possible source of cormaline approximately fifty kilometres from Alpha team's position. Beta team reports a good hunt and will be ready to beam back in ten minutes. Ensign Jenkins has landed the _Sacajawea_ and is helping Beta team load their cargo onto it." He looked up from his console. "Lieutenant Nicoletti reports that several dilithium crystals were pure enough to be integrated directly into the warp core and the rest are undergoing decontamination. The commander's diamagnetic ore has been converted for use in the energy systems. Our power status is back up to sixty-six percent, and we should be able to sustain warp nine point two."

Janeway's shoulders lost a little of their rigidity. "As soon as Beta team loads their cargo I want them and the _Sacajawea_ back on board. Advise Commander Chakotay to proceed to Alpha team's position immediately."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And now we wait," she said under her breath, fingers tapping on the arm of her chair.

===0===

The goddamned thrusters weren't responding. Muttering to himself, Chakotay tried cycling power through the aft relays. No effect.

~Seven of Nine to Chakotay.~

"Go ahead," he answered absently.

~Where are you?~

"Stuck on the surface. Can't get the thruster assembly online."

~Commander, you must report to our position. The Fen Domar ship is five minutes from weapons range.~

"Believe me, Seven, I'm trying," he clipped out. "Don't wait for me. Get back to _Voyager_."

~Understood. Crystal extraction is almost complete.~

"Good work." Chakotay crouched, ripping open an EPS conduit cover beneath the helm. "I'm going to give this another try. If it doesn't work I'll call for a beam-out. See you back on the ship."

~Acknowledged.~ The comm crackled slightly as Seven closed the channel, and, swearing quietly, Chakotay bent to the helm panel again.

===0===

"Captain," Tuvok's voice was grave, "Inheritor Alkin's vessel is within range."

"Hail them, Harry."

"They're not resp-" Kim broke off. "Captain, they've altered course. They're heading directly for the planet."

"Pursuit course, Tom," Janeway snapped, standing. "Tuvok, weapons status?"

"Standard torpedoes are loaded and ready. Phasers are online and at eighty percent."

"B'Elanna, give me good news."

"I'm bringing the armour online now, Captain. With the power increase it should hold stable."

"Let's hope so. Get those teams up here –" Before she could finish her sentence, _Voyager_ lurched, and Janeway fell to her knees. "Report!"

"Alkin's ship fired on us," Harry tripped over his own words. "Transporters and phasers are offline."

Janeway swore under her breath. "Hail the shuttle pilots. Tell them to get everyone on board and return to _Voyager_ immediately. Leave the supplies if they have to."

"The _Drake_ is still planetbound," Harry answered. "Commander Chakotay reports a problem with the thruster assembly. Ensign Jenkins has Beta team aboard the _Sacajawea_ and is lifting off the surface – Captain, the Fen Domar have fired on the _Sacajawea_! They're going down …" He lifted his head. "They've made an emergency landing. Jenkins reports all on board are safe, no injuries. But the Fen Domar have transported troops to their position."

"Alpha team?" The captain hurried to her seat.

"I'm reading eight Fen life signs at their location as well."

She didn't realise, until she'd had to uncurl her hands to work the centre console, that she'd been clenching her fists so tightly that her nails had drawn blood from her palms.

===0===

"Seal the doors," Jenkins yelled over her shoulder as her hands flew across her dying console. "A dozen Fen Domar just beamed to the surface. Shields are down."

Tal Celes was tapping frantically at the input panel by the rear hatch. "I'm erecting a forcefield around the entry point, but I don't know how long it will hold."

Lieutenant Andrews passed out phasers and phaser rifles. "Can you hail _Voyager_?" he demanded of Jenkins.

She shook her head. "Comms have gone down. I can't tell if it's a system failure or some kind of dampening field." She turned to survey the rest of the team. "We're on our own."

"Not for long," Andrews muttered, peering through the viewport. "Here they come."

===0===

"Lower your weapons."

Even as Seven's strident demand rang out, Ayala knew it was pointless. The Fen had them outmanned and outgunned. They had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide.

The tallest Fen soldier, the one Seven had addressed, didn't bother to respond. With a jerk of his head he ordered his troops to surround the four _Voyager_ crew. One soldier reached for Marla Gilmore, snagging her by the elbow and pulling her in close to his body, trapping her arms against her own chest.

Ayala didn't like the look of that soldier's grin.

For a moment he considered attacking. He calculated he could take out at least two of the Fen before he went down in a blaze of glory, but then what? His crewmates would still be outnumbered and he'd be too dead to help them. He met Seven's eyes briefly, and at her slight nod, tossed his phaser to the ground before him.

"Wise decision," the lead Fen grunted as Seven and Sofin followed suit.

"What are your intentions?" Seven asked.

The soldier smiled at her, white teeth bared. "Don't worry, pretty one. You'll find out soon enough."

He tapped a small device strapped to his wrist, and Ayala braced himself as an unfamiliar transporter took hold.

===0===

"Start, you fucker," Chakotay roared, slamming his hand on the console.

To his astonishment, the engines powered up. ~Thrusters are online,~ the computer informed him helpfully.

"About damn time," he muttered. "Chakotay to _Voyager_."

~Commander.~ The captain's attenuated face appeared on the shuttle's comm screen. ~What's your status?~

"Engines are online. I'm heading for Alpha team's position."

~Don't bother.~ Her eyes bore into him. ~They've been transported to Alkin's ship. Get to Beta team's position as soon as you can. The _Sacajawea_ was shot down and sensors indicate they're under fire.~

"Seven?" he demanded.

~Captured.~ Janeway's throat worked momentarily. ~Along with Ayala, Sofin and Gilmore. Alkin fired on _Voyager_ as well, and our transporters are offline.~

He heard an alarm behind her.

~Harry?~ she demanded.

~Incoming fire from the Fen Domar vessel, Captain. And the ground troops at Beta team's position have cut through the shuttle hatch. They're under attack.~

Janeway turned back to the screen. ~Get over there _now_ , Commander.~

~It's too late,~ Kim reported, sounding desolate. ~Lieutenant Andrews' life signs have disappeared. The rest of Beta team has been beamed to Alkin's ship.~

===0===

"What are they going to do to us?"

Tal Celes' voice trembled, and Samantha Wildman reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "I don't know, Tal. But Captain Janeway will come for us. Don't worry."

Celes nodded, swallowing hard, just as the soldier behind her shunted the point of his weapon into her lower back. She bit back a whimper.

"Move," the Fen ordered, and Celes quickened her pace along the cavernous hallways of the Fen Domar ship.

They were ushered into a vast hexagonal chamber ringed with dimly-lit computer consoles. Fen officers moved between the stations, voices kept low as they monitored screens and carried out orders. In the centre of the chamber was a broad dais that supported an ornately wrought command chair, and in the chair sat Inheritor Alkin.

Celes felt another shove in the small of her back and stumbled forward, barely keeping her feet as the Inheritor looked down on her from his throne. Beside her, Sam Wildman was knocked to her knees. Nina Jenkins, on her other side, bent to help her up.

"What do you want?" Wildman demanded as soon as Jenkins had steadied her.

Alkin ignored her, flipping a hand at a soldier behind them. Celes could hear Chell's anxious protests and the scuffling of feet.

"Where are you taking my crewman?" Wildman asked quickly.

"Your crewman?" Alkin finally deigned to look at her. "You aren't the captain, little one."

Sam drew herself straight. "I'm in command of this team."

"Are you?" Alkin smiled. "Well, in that case I'll allow you to live the longest, so you can watch your crewmates die."

As Tal's wrists were grasped and roughly yanked behind her back, two soldiers dragging her from the room, she barely heard Wildman's gasp over the roaring of blood in her own ears.

===0===

"There's a blade in my boot," Brian Sofin murmured to Ayala as they were marched from the transporter room and through the metal-walled corridors. "If you create a diversion I can get to it…"

Ayala gave a barely-perceptible shake of his head. "Too many of them. Wait."

"For what?" Sofin muttered. "You saw the way that fucker was groping Marla."

"Yeah, I saw." Ayala closed his mouth and turned his head away.

"So what's your plan –" Sofin's argument was cut off by the impact of a Fen phaser rifle to the back of his head. Groaning, he dropped hard to his knees.

The soldier who'd clubbed him reached down to hook a hand under Sofin's elbow. "Keep moving," he snarled at Ayala, who'd crouched, ready to fight, "or your death will be slow and painful."

Sofin was gasping, staggering, clearly concussed, but he managed to nod at Ayala's questioning glance. "I'm okay."

"Shut up," the Fen said, almost absently, as they entered a large six-sided chamber. He shoved Sofin and Ayala to their knees. Ayala took rapid stock of the room, counting seventeen – no, eighteen – fully-armed Fen soldiers.

Another soldier pushed Gilmore and Seven toward the centre of the room. Ayala's gaze followed them. Inheritor Alkin lounged on a raised central chair, and before him stood Wildman and Jenkins. Seven and Gilmore were nudged none-too-gently to stand beside them.

"Where are our missing crewmen?" he heard Seven demand.

"And it's delightful to meet you, too," Alkin smirked at her. "I'm told one of your people was killed on the planet's surface. Your blue-skinned friend has been taken to the science lab, where my officers will be very interested to study him. And the little girl is there."

Alkin waved a lazy hand toward the archway to his left. The eyes of the _Voyager_ crew turned in that direction, and even the taciturn Ayala and the tightly-controlled Seven of Nine were unable to remain completely composed.

The two men who'd draped Ensign Tal Celes' limp arms over their shoulders withdrew their support, and the Bajoran woman slumped to the deck. The fall was awkward and Ayala heard her wrist snap, but Celes barely even moaned. She was naked, her body scored with what he guessed were lashes from a whip. He saw freshly-darkening bruises on the pale skin of her hips and blood staining the insides of her thighs.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, dark and vacant, and he thought he saw two small, neat puncture wounds above her collarbone.

Sofin turned wide, panicked eyes to Ayala. "They're never going to let us leave here alive."

"What have you done to her?" Seven's voice quavered.

"Not nearly enough." Alkin turned his smile back toward her. "She doesn't appear to take pain very well. My men are disappointed. I do hope you and your colleagues will prove to be more entertaining."

Seven raised her chin. "You will find these others to be equally unsatisfactory. I, however, am Borg. Let them go. I will offer you sufficient challenge."

The Inheritor's lazy smile curled wider. "I look forward to it."

===0===

(TBC)

Note: Re Tal Celes' name; I'm aware the Bajoran tradition is surname-first name, but I've gone with Memory Alpha's explanation on this. I quote:

 _Celes was referred to as Crewman Celes, implying "Celes" was her family name, and only Billy Telfer called her Tal, implying "Tal" is her personal name, therefore her name would be Celes Tal according to traditional Bajoran naming. In_ _Ensign Ro_ _, it was noted that some Bajorans changed the order of their names for the benefit of relations with Humans._

Carry on. As you were.


	6. Chapter 5

_**Chapter Five**_

 _Stardate 58012.9 – January 5, 2381_

"The ablative armour is holding," Tuvok reported as another volley of fire from the Fen Domar ship impacted _Voyager_. "I have one phaser bank back online. The other has been destroyed."

"Take out their weapons," Janeway ordered.

After a moment, Tuvok shook his head. "Their armour is deflecting our fire. Our phasers can't penetrate it."

"Fire torpedoes."

"No effect," Tuvok reported.

Janeway gripped the arm of her chair. "Harry, do we have transporters yet?"

"No, ma'am. The targeting scanners are able to lock onto our people's signals, but the emitters were damaged in that first strike and power flow to the reimaging systems is being disrupted. I could bypass the emitters, but it'll take at least thirty minutes."

"Get started. Can we use the cargo transporters?"

"They're tied into the same emitter system."

"What about the transporters on the shuttles?" Torres broke in. "I can take the _Cochrane_ out –"

"I need you here. But it's a good idea, B'Elanna. Tom, get to the _Cochrane_." She waited for his nod, for Baytart to slip into his position at the helm, then opened a channel. "Janeway to Chakotay, what's your position?"

~I'm thirty thousand kilometres from the Fen ship, using the moon as cover. I can get close enough to distract them if you can beam our people out...~

"We can't," Janeway cut him off. "Transporters won't be repaired for half an hour. I'm sending Lieutenant Paris out in the _Cochrane_. _Voyager_ will run interference while the two of you beam our people onto your shuttles."

~Understood. I'll coordinate with Paris. Chakotay out.~

Janeway turned to her tactical officer, but whatever she'd intended to say died on her lips as she took in the sight of him. Sweat beaded the dark skin of his temples and he was hunched over his console, long hands gripping onto it.

She leapt from her chair, striding over to him. "What is it, Tuvok?" she asked, voice low.

"The Doctor advised me that a side-effect of my condition is increased and uncontrolled empathy and telepathy," he managed through gritted teeth. "I believe I am perceiving the emotions of the away teams."

Kathryn rested a hand on his shoulder. "Do you need to go to Sickbay?"

"No." Tuvok's jaw tightened. "They are in grave danger, Captain, and I will not leave my post while they need my help."

She considered him, then nodded. "I'll get the Doctor up here."

" _No_ ," he almost shouted, and Janeway's hand froze in shock. "Please," he continued, quieter. "The Doctor will be needed in Sickbay when our crewmates return."

"Can you tell what's happening to them?" she whispered.

"Not specifically." Tuvok shook himself, straightening. "But I can tell you that Inheritor Alkin has no intention of letting them live."

===0===

"Why are you doing this?" Samantha Wildman's voice was thick with tears as she knelt beside the semi-conscious Celes.

"Your captain should have heeded my warning, little one." Alkin looked unconcerned. "Sadly, all of you will suffer the consequences of her arrogance."

He gestured to his guards to restrain the prisoners. Jenkins, Wildman and Gilmore were merely held by the arms, but Seven's threat had been taken seriously; she was pushed to the back of the chamber and held at phaser-point alongside Ayala and the concussed Sofin. When she insisted on medical treatment for her injured crewmate, one of the guards shoved a balled-up wad of fabric in her mouth.

Alkin laughed at Seven's narrowed eyes, then nodded to one of his soldiers. "Hail _Voyager_."

The enormous viewscreen at the front of the Fen command centre switched to an image of _Voyager_ 's bridge. Sam watched as Captain Janeway moved down from the tactical station to stand in front of her chair, her eyes hardening as she took in the sight of her captured crew.

~Inheritor,~ she said flatly. ~Return my people immediately.~

"You're becoming predictable, Captain," Alkin replied smoothly. "But I didn't hail you for conversation."

~Then what the hell do you want?~

"I want to show you what happens when my generosity is thrown back in my face. I want you to see your own fate for yourself." He leaned in, elbow on knee, pointed canines bared. "I want you to watch."

He leaned back, turned to the soldier at his left.

"Show her that one first," he said, pointing to Tal Celes.

The guard nearest Celes gripped her by the hair, yanking her upright. Her knees buckled, a pained cry escaping her lips, and he held her steady with a hand under her arm.

~What have you done to her?~ Janeway's voice was deadly quiet.

"I gave her to my troops," Alkin answered with a casual flip of his hand. "I was pleased with their effortless capture of your people. She was their reward."

He nodded at the soldier, who brought a blade out from the holster at his hip and held it to Celes' throat.

~Stop.~ Janeway moved closer to the viewscreen. Wildman could see that her lips were trembling, her face paler than ever, but her voice remained steady. ~Let her go.~

"As you wish," Alkin shrugged, and the soldier drew the blade across Tal's throat.

"No," Sam screamed as Celes' blood gushed, her body jerking. A gurgle, a sigh, and she went limp. The soldier released his hold on her hair and she crashed to the deck.

Nina Jenkins yanked herself out of the grip of the Fen holding her and rushed to Tal's body. "She's dead," she said starkly, turning to face Janeway on the viewscreen.

"As will you be, soon," Alkin informed Jenkins. Another soldier grabbed her by the back of her uniform. She struggled, landing an elbow under his eye, a fist to his ribs, but he pinned her arms, immobilising her. A third Fen stepped forward, blade ready, and sliced her uniform from neck to waist.

~ _Stop this_.~ Janeway was leaning over the helm now, nails digging into the back of Baytart's chair, eyes grey and blazing. ~Let her go, Alkin, or I swear -~

Another flick of Alkin's wrist, and someone muted the audio. Sam could see Janeway's mouth moving, her fists clenching impotently as the captain realised what Alkin had done.

Alkin laughed. "That was becoming tiresome. Continue, Falit," he ordered the soldier who'd cut open Nina's uniform.

Falit tucked his knife away and yanked the torn cloth from Jenkins' upper body. Samantha saw her shudder, her lips pressed together, and tried to jerk out of the wristlock her own guard held.

"Don't worry," the guard's hot breath crawled over her neck, "your turn will come."

The soldier behind Jenkins placed a hand at the back of her neck and pushed her to hands and knees. Dropping down behind her, he made fast work of her uniform pants as Falit pressed his hand down on her upper back, flattening her chest to the floor. She struggled, a whimper escaping her as she realised she couldn't avoid what she knew was about to happen.

"Nina," Sam whispered urgently. "Be somewhere else. This isn't really happening. Do you understand?"

She saw Jenkins' blonde head nod, shoulders tensing and relaxing as the pilot drew in a deep breath. But before she had the chance to centre herself, the Fen behind her pushed forward sharply, and Jenkins' next breath was half-sob, half-scream.

"Oh God," Wildman heard Gilmore moan quietly beside her. "I can't do this. I don't want this …"

The Fen finished quickly, slumping over Jenkins' back, and Falit shoved him aside, beckoning over another guard. As he approached, Nina kicked out at him with a scream, catching him on the side of his knee. Enraged, the guard grabbed the hair at the back of her head and pulled her half-upright, his free hand curled into a fist as he rained blows on her exposed ribcage.

Sam heard the cracking of ribs, and swallowed against her rising nausea.

Eventually the guard grew tired, or bored, and flung her to the floor, aiming a couple of kicks at her kidneys. Nina curled up, trying to breathe slowly to ease the pain in her ribs. Samantha watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips.

"Is that … all you've got?" Jenkins rasped.

Alkin shouted with laughter. "Oh, I like her. I'd have her myself, if I wasn't saving my favours for your lovely captain. Falit, get her up. She deserves to die on her feet."

Falit hauled Jenkins upright, unsheathed his knife, and before the pilot could so much as widen her eyes, buried it to the hilt in her chest.

He pulled out the knife, and Jenkins sagged to the floor, lifeless.

"No," whispered Gilmore.

Sam felt herself start to tremble. "It's okay," she murmured, half to herself, half to Marla. "We'll be okay. _Voyager_ will get us back. We just have to be brave –"

" _Fuck_ being brave," Gilmore's panic was clear, her voice rising. "We're all going to die –"

Her scream was cut off by the hand of her Fen guard clamping over her mouth.

"Inheritor," the guard called. "I think this one wants to go next."

Alkin inclined his head, and the guard kicked the back of Marla's knee, sending her stumbling into Falit's grasp. He locked his hands around her forehead and chin, gave an abrupt twist, and Gilmore's head lolled sharply on her broken neck.

Wildman's stomach clenched. Her gaze flew to the viewscreen, where Janeway had a hand to her mouth.

"Ah yes, your captain," Alkin had followed her glance. "Shall we hear what she has to say?"

~Alkin,~ Janeway's voice was husky, ~stop this. Please.~

"Bring that one," Alkin ordered one of his men, nodding toward the rear of the chamber, and Brian Sofin was dragged up to the dais. "This one's for you, Falit. I know you like your boys."

Falit grinned as Sofin was shoved into his grasp, shouting and struggling. The engineer landed an elbow strike to the Fen's temple and a knee to his ribs. With a yell, Falit wrenched open Sofin's utility jumpsuit and fastened his teeth into the hollow above his collarbone. Horrified, Sam watched as Sofin's struggles faded to twitches and his limbs hung limply, eyes rolled back in his head, breathing rapid and shallow.

"What did he do to him?" she whispered.

Alkin's attention returned to her. He smiled even more widely than before, and Wildman noticed a pair of swollen protuberances above his canines.

"Venom sacs," Alkin told her. "An amusing characteristic of our biology. Our venom acts as a paralytic on most humanoid species. I, of course, prefer not to resort to such cheap tricks, but Falit does enjoy immobilised prey."

As though he'd been ordered, Falit let Sofin drop to the deck, rolling him to his stomach with the toe of his boot. His blade curved over the engineer's back, slicing through the thick grey uniform. Shoving the knife back into his belt, Falit fumbled with his own pants, dropped to his knees behind Sofin and hiked up his hips.

Sam heard Sofin's pained, muffled groan as Falit thrust into him.

The Inheritor grinned at the viewscreen. "Enjoying the show, Captain?"

===0===

"Cut the channel," Janeway's voice was a hoarse whisper.

The viewscreen returned to a display of the Fen ship's exterior. The bridge was silent.

"Tuvok," Janeway had to clear her throat before she could continue, "how much damage would our nanoprobe torpedoes do to that ship?"

Tuvok had regained a measure of equilibrium. "Those torpedoes are not fully tested, and the Fen armour is adaptable. I can't say with any certainty."

"I want their weapons disabled." Janeway turned flat eyes to him. "I want our people back on board, and then I want that ship destroyed."

Tuvok nodded. "Two nanoprobe torpedoes have been loaded. Firing."

The captain turned to the viewscreen in time to watch fire bloom along the Fen ship's hull.

===0===

The deck listed sharply to starboard, sending Sam's guard stumbling. She wrenched out of his grasp, scrambling her way to Sofin. Falit had pulled out of him and was getting to his feet. Sofin was motionless on the deck. She checked his pulse.

Nothing.

Samantha heard a scuffle at the rear of the chamber, shouts, the thud of fists on flesh, but by the time she looked around, Seven and Ayala's brief rebellion had been quelled.

"Status," Inheritor Alkin barked. "And bring that Borg to me."

"Weapons are down, Inheritor," a soldier called from one of the bridge stations. "I don't know how they did it. Their torpedoes shouldn't have yielded that kind of power."

"Get our weapons back online," Alkin snarled.

Seven was shoved to face him, head held high. Alkin's attention turned to her.

"You're something of a troublemaker," he observed. "I want you right here where I can see you." He paused, cocking his head to the side. "Better yet…"

He rose from his chair, hand clasping around Seven's slender throat, bringing her close. Yanking apart the collar of her utility uniform, he sank his canines into the skin below her neck. A brief whimper escaped Seven's throat and she crumpled, only Alkin's grip holding her upright.

"Incoming fire!" shouted a soldier, and Sam braced herself just in time. A series of deafening booms echoed across the cavernous chamber and the ship lurched and shook.

"Sire," another soldier said, "the armour is offline."

Alkin threw Seven of Nine away from him, not bothering to see where she landed. Her head struck the edge of the dais with a sickening _crack_ and lolled at an awkward angle.

"Seven," Sam heard Ayala yell, shoving aside his guard to reach Seven.

Sam rushed to their side. "Don't touch her," she warned, her gaze scanning Seven's glazed, half-open eyes. There was a dark trail of blood meandering from her ear. "Seven, can you hear me?"

"Ensign," came the faintest whisper. "Tell her –" She broke off on a moan.

"Don't try to talk," Sam urged her. "Your skull is fractured, and I think your spine might be as well. Just hold on."

"No." Seven's pale, silver-latticed hand twitched against Wildman's. "Tell her … I love her. And I … forgive her."

"Who?" Sam asked, but Seven's eyes had closed.

===0===

~Paris to Chakotay. Their weapons and armour are down, but they've activated shields. I'm going in for a strafing run, take out the shield emitters.~

 _A what?_ The thought passed fleetingly. "Acknowledged, Paris. I'll cover you."

~Just get our people. Paris out.~

"Aye, sir," Chakotay muttered sarcastically, and took the _Drake_ into a sharp roll, diving under the Fen ship's bow. "Computer, scan for all human, Bolian and Bajoran life signs."

~One Bolian and three human life signs detected.~

"Three humans?" Chakotay's heart clutched. "Can you identify them?"

~Lieutenant Michael Ayala, Ensign Samantha Wildman, and Ensign Seven of Nine.~

No time for relief; no time for sorrow. The _Cochrane_ was already making its swoop toward the shield emitters spaced along the Fen ship's hull. Chakotay watched as orange phaser fire impacted on one, two, three, _four_. "Nice shooting, Paris," he murmured.

~Paris to Chakotay. Their shields are down, but they've restored one phaser array. I'll hold them off for you.~

"Trying to bank another life debt, Paris?" Chakotay wrenched the _Drake_ into evasive manoeuvre alpha-five as phaser fire streaked toward him.

~Like you don't owe me enough already,~ Paris drawled.

The _Cochrane_ executed a perfect barrel roll, drawing the next bout of fire, and Chakotay punched the _Drake_ to quarter-impulse, ducking under the ship's belly. "Computer, lock onto the human and Bolian life signs and initiate immediate transport."

~Energising.~

He heard the musical tingle of materialisation and spared one brief glance to the rear of the shuttle. "Ayala, take weapons. Paris is making himself too easy a target."

"Got it, boss." Ayala swung into the seat beside him, immediately honing the shuttle's phasers on the one functioning Fen array. A single burst, and the phaser turret disintegrated.

~Paris to Chakotay. Thanks.~

"Thank Ayala."

~You got them then?~

Chakotay hesitated. "I got the ones I could," he answered finally.

~Understood.~ Paris' voice was grim. ~See you back there, Commander.~

"Are you okay?" Chakotay glanced quickly to Ayala as he set a course for _Voyager_.

"I'm fine." Ayala shook his head, mouth set in a firm line. "Boss, let me fly. Your wife needs you."

Chakotay's hands stilled on the console. "What?"

"Just get back there," Ayala said quietly.

Stomach clenching, Chakotay forced himself out of his chair. Ayala slid into his place, Chell rushing to take the tactical station.

Seven lay awkwardly on the transporter pad, arms and legs sprawled, Sam Wildman crouched beside her with one hand curved carefully under her neck. "Chakotay," she said softly as he approached. "Don't move her. I think she has a spinal injury."

He dropped to his knees beside her, taking one pale hand between his own. Seven's eyes were closed, her breath fluttering between parted lips. The zip-front of her uniform had been torn and on the fair skin of her neck he could see a pair of neat, blackened puncture marks.

"Seven," he said, voice hoarse and urgent. "Seven, can you hear me?"

Her eyes opened, barely a slit. "Cha-" She swallowed dryly. "Chakotay –"

"Don't talk," he whispered. "We're almost home. The Doctor will fix you up."

The faintest of smiles curved her lips. "Liar," she murmured.

"Just hold on." He glanced frantically at Wildman. "How was she injured?"

"The Fen inject a paralytic into their victims through biting," she said succinctly. "Alkin threw her to the deck. She couldn't break her fall. She hit her head."

"Commander," Ayala called from the helm. "I've contacted _Voyager_. The captain ordered me to beam Seven to Sickbay."

"Transport all three of us," Chakotay ordered. He looked back down at his wife. Her eyes were closed again, her lips tinged blue. "Energise."

===0===

"Hit them," Janeway snapped. "Everything we've got, Tuvok."

"Aye, Captain."

A barrage of torpedoes flew toward the crippled Fen ship, explosions blossoming along its hull.

"Their warp engines have been disabled. However, their core is protected by multiple layers of independent shielding. I can't penetrate them."

"Forget it. Are our shuttles on board?"

"The _Cochrane_ has docked," Kim answered. "The _Drake_ is about to enter Shuttlebay Two."

"As soon as they're –"

She was cut off by the insistent beeping of Kim's console.

"Captain, the Fen are hailing."

"Onscreen."

Alkin was not smiling. ~Captain Janeway.~

"Inheritor."

~I congratulate you on your escape.~ He paused, dark eyes drilling into her across the viewscreen. ~Enjoy it while it lasts.~

The comm shut off.

"The _Drake_ is onboard, Captain," Harry said.

"Ensign Baytart, get us out of here." Janeway waited for the pilot's nod of confirmation, for the stars to streak on the viewscreen, then trudged back to her chair. "Damage report."

Harry began the litany. "Hull breaches on decks eight and nine. Tractor beam, secondary power systems and three phaser arrays are offline. There's damage to the sensor array –"

~Doctor to the bridge.~

Kim fell silent.

Janeway straightened in her seat, the weight of all eyes on her. "Go ahead."

~Captain.~ The EMH's voice was grave. ~Please report to Sickbay immediately.~

 _Seven_. Her nails curled into the arms of her chair.

"I'm on my way."

But it took all the will she had left to force her feet to carry her to the turbolift.

===0===

"Commander," she heard the Doctor entreating as she entered Sickbay. "Please. I need access to my patient."

"Report," Janeway whispered.

"Captain." The Doctor's forehead was lined. "Seven's nanoprobes are neutralising the paralytic venom, but her physical injuries are too severe."

"Paralytic venom?" Kathryn didn't recognise her own voice. She took two jerky steps toward Seven's biobed and hovered several metres away, afraid to move closer. Chakotay was hunched over the opposite side of the bed, Seven's hand clutched in his own. His gaze was fixed on her thin, colourless face.

"A quirk of Fen biology. They have the ability to inject their victims through a bite from their canines. Captain –" The Doctor paused, his dark, so-human eyes fixed on her face. "Her spinal cord has been severed, interrupting the electrical impulses to her cortical node. It's failing. I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."

She shook her head, slightly, as though refusing to let his words penetrate, and drifted closer to the bed.

"Seven," she whispered.

Chakotay's head rose. She couldn't look at him.

Seven's eyelashes fluttered slightly, and she drew in a short, shuddering breath. "Captain."

The hand not held in her husband's twitched, and Janeway reached for it without thinking. "I'm here, Seven."

"I'm … sorry." It cost her, Kathryn could see, but Seven's eyes opened, enough for the captain to read the pain in them, and the regret.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Her own eyes were blurring, her throat constricting. She could feel Chakotay's gaze on her. She didn't want to see it. She didn't want to see him. "Oh, Seven –"

Kathryn felt the faintest pressure on her hand, the one holding Seven's, and blinked back her tears. Seven's blue eyes were locked on hers.

"I never meant … to hurt you," it was the barest breath, "either of you." Her eyes slid closed. "I didn't understand –"

An alarm shrilled on the bio-monitor, and the Doctor stepped quickly forward with a tricorder. After a moment he switched it off.

"I'm so sorry, Commander, Captain."

Hot, aching tears stung her eyes, and she bit down hard on her lip, tasting blood.

"I warned you."

Kathryn's shoulders jerked at the sound of Chakotay's cracked, brittle voice.

"I told you this would happen," he whispered harshly. "I begged you to turn back. You wouldn't listen."

Over the body of the woman she'd loved like a daughter, Kathryn met the black, tormented, guilt-ridden gaze of the man she loved beyond all sense or reason, and wondered if she'd ever be able to face him, or her own reflection, again.

===0===

(TBC)


	7. Chapter 6

_**Chapter Six**_

 _Stardate 58014.6 – January 6, 2381_

" _Chakotay."_

 _Her eyes were darker than he'd ever seen them, wide with arousal and a touch of apprehension. Her body, beneath his, was heated and lush, and it took everything he had to slow down, to touch her gently._

" _Don't be afraid," he whispered. "I won't hurt you."_

 _Some of her dry humour asserted itself. "According to my research, intercourse usually causes a small measure of pain the first time."_

 _He grinned down at her, his arms trembling slightly with the effort of holding himself above her. "At the risk of sounding egotistical, I'll make you forget the pain." He nudged closer. "Are you ready?"_

 _She caught her full lower lip between her teeth and nodded._

 _Chakotay inched inside her, slowly, carefully, teeth gritting at the feel of her, liquid-soft but oh, so tight. She winced, and he paused, leaning down to kiss her._

" _Okay?" he whispered, and her breath puffed against his skin as she murmured "yes"._

 _He slid in further, pushing past her barrier, heard her suck in a sharp breath and kept going as her nails curled into his shoulders. Slow, easy, until he was all the way home, and then he stilled, his lips against her neck as she relaxed._

" _I love you," he said softly and felt her mouth curve against his cheek._

" _I love you, too."_

 _And he began to move, the grip of her inner muscles making him groan, her pale thighs curved over his, her soft sighs and the tentative movement of her hips urging him to take her faster, harder._ Wait _, he reminded himself,_ gentle, easy _, and he forced himself to slow, reaching down to touch her and hearing her moan._

" _Chakotay," she gasped, straining against him, her head flung back as she shook in his arms._

 _He groaned, his face against her throat, feeling her pulse flutter against his lips. Her limbs curled around him, her body small and lithe, her roughened-silk hair tickling his cheek. He raised his head to take her mouth, opened his eyes to see hers, blue-grey and darkened with need, her auburn hair tossed and her pale neck arched, and her whiskey voice husked his name as he came with a hoarse, plaintive, guilty shout –_

He jerked awake, heart clenching, breath gasping in his lungs.

The sheets were twisted around his legs, his skin slick with sweat. Pushing off the covers, Chakotay hunched over the side of the bed. His head ached.

Dead. Seven was dead.

His throat burned. He didn't try to stop the gasping sobs that wrenched out of him.

The grief was preferable to the guilt.

===0===

Her hands were shaking.

The Doctor had offered her a sedative when her tears wouldn't stop coming. She'd stood at Seven's bedside, holding her hand, feeling the warmth leaching from the young woman's skin, and the tears had just kept streaming down her face. She didn't understand why. She was hollow, numb, and yet the tears would not stop.

"I'm sorry, Captain." The Doctor had taken her shoulders, gently, firmly, guiding her away from the body. "I need to perform an autopsy now. Please, get some rest."

She didn't remember leaving Sickbay. She wasn't sure how she'd ended up here, in her ready room, an empty cup cradled in her trembling hands as she stared out at the streaking stars.

~Bridge to Captain Janeway.~

Her voice was rusty. "Go ahead, Mr Paris."

~Captain, Engineering is requesting all stop. The warp coils are misaligned and they can't be repaired while we're at warp. I've detected a nebula half a light year away that could provide cover while we make repairs.~

"Set a course," she answered. "I'm on my way."

She set the cup on the edge of her desk, ran her shaking fingers through her hair and went back to her bridge.

===0===

"Nicoletti, take over here." Torres' voice was strained. She held her hand to her mouth until the lieutenant took the micro-caliper from her hand, and then she rushed to the refresher at the rear of Engineering. Dropping to her knees, she emptied her stomachs of the breakfast she'd eaten three hours earlier.

Sitting back on her heels, she pressed a damp cloth to her mouth. Miral's pregnancy had never made her this sick.

She stood slowly, using the bulkhead for support. The nausea was subsiding, but there was a dull pain low in her belly. Rubbing her still-flat abdomen, B'Elanna breathed deeply. The ache eased, but she felt weak.

"Toughen up," she told her reflection. "What kind of Klingon are you?"

She splashed water on her face, straightened her uniform and strode back out to Engineering.

===0===

The nebula was wispy and ill-formed, but it was threaded with sirillium gases that Harry Kim claimed should offer some protection from the Fen Domar's sensors, as well as providing an additional power source. Paris guided the ship on thrusters while Kim angled the Bussard collectors through the gas stream.

"Can you realign the warp coils while we're moving?" Janeway asked Torres.

"Yes, Captain." Torres looked pale and peaky, but composed. "As long as Flyboy here doesn't take us directly through a sirillium cloud while we're routing power through the coils, we'll be fine."

"I'll have Astrometrics monitor the gas formations." The captain tapped her commbadge. "Janeway to Sev-"

She stopped.

The briefing room was silent. Harry's head was bowed, his teeth sunk into his lip. Paris reached for his wife's hand under the table.

Janeway pressed her badge again to close the channel.

"Dismissed," she said quietly.

===0===

The vision quest was a mistake.

Finding himself standing on the dead soil of his ravaged home planet wasn't surprising. He'd hoped for the mollifying presence of his father, his grandfather, but even his spirit guide had not deigned to appear. Chakotay had wandered the plains in a silence broken only by the soft sighing of the breeze that ruffled the foul-smelling dust at his feet, until his anger grew and he'd brought himself out of the vision.

Anger. It swelled within him until he could feel nothing else, and he welcomed it, embraced it. Made it his own.

Once, he'd told her she brought him peace. Chakotay laughed aloud, fists clenching in his darkened quarters. There'd be no peace for him, not ever again.

And it was all her fault.

===0===

"Captain, sensors have detected the Fen Domar ship. It's on approach."

"So soon?" Janeway turned to frown at Tuvok.

"They must have prioritised the repair of their warp engines. Their ablative armour is still inoperable, but they have also repaired two weapons arrays." The Vulcan glanced up at her. "Our armour is still online and we have two nanoprobe torpedoes remaining. We will be able to defend ourselves."

"But we can't get away," Paris pointed out.

"Janeway to Torres. How long do you need to finish aligning the warp coils?"

~Another hour at least, Captain.~

"How long til the Fen get here?" Janeway asked Tuvok.

"At their current speed, forty minutes."

"You've got thirty-five minutes, B'Elanna."

~Understood,~ Torres replied.

"Captain," Tuvok said quietly. "May I see you in your ready room?"

She nodded. "You have the bridge, Tom."

Tuvok followed her in and stood ramrod-straight before her desk as Janeway moved behind it.

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

He took the seat she indicated. "Captain, you have been on duty for over twenty-four hours now without rest or sufficient nutritional intake."

She shrugged. "It's been a busy day."

"And you have just lost several of your crew, including one of your closest friends."

"Your point," she said tightly.

"I'm concerned for your emotional and physical wellbeing."

"You should be more worried about Commander Chakotay."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "I am also concerned for him. However, as the captain of this ship you require rest. And as my friend, you have suffered a great loss. If there's anything I can do for you –"

"Thank you," she said, folding her hands in her lap to still their trembling. "Tuvok, I know you want to help, but I can't afford to be distracted while the Fen Domar are still out there. The best thing you can do for me right now is let me do my job."

Tuvok rose gracefully. "Then I will also do mine to the best of my ability."

He returned to the bridge, and Kathryn switched on her desktop monitor and called up Seven of Nine's crew profile. As captain, it was her duty to record her death, and she had never been one to put off an unpleasant task.

===0===

"We've collected enough sirillium gas to fill two storage bays, Captain, but Inheritor Alkin's vessel will reach our coordinates in fifteen minutes," Harry Kim warned as Janeway took her seat.

"Have they detected us?"

"I don't think so, but they've most likely traced our warp trail and extrapolated our position. There aren't many places to hide around here."

"Tuvok, I want the last two nanoprobe torpedoes ready, but let's avoid using them unless we have no other option. Boost power to the phaser arrays."

"Aye, Captain."

"Armour status?"

"Stable."

"Janeway to Engineering. How are those coils coming, B'Elanna?"

~I need twenty minutes,~ Torres answered, sounding strained.

"You have ten."

~I'll do my best. Torres out.~

"Janeway to Astrometrics."

~Icheb here, Captain.~

"We're going to need someplace else to hide, Ensign. What do you have on sensors?"

~There is a Class B gas giant less than three light years away. With shields at full, _Voyager_ could remain in its orbit undetected for up to forty-eight hours.~

"Send the coordinates to the helm. We'll set a course as soon as warp drive is back online."

She stood, looking around her bridge at her crew, calm and focused at their stations.

Except one. Her brow furrowed, noting the tension in Tuvok's shoulders, the jerkiness in his movements. Feeling her gaze on him, he looked up. She could see his dark eyes looked feverish, but he held himself straight, nodding at her.

"Open a ship-wide channel, Harry," Janeway ordered, still assessing her tactical officer.

"Channel open."

She paced slowly across the command deck as she spoke. "All hands, this is the captain. The Fen Domar ship is on approach, but we are still undergoing repairs to the warp coils and cannot go to warp until they're complete. Chances are high that we will come under attack before that time. Our defences are in good shape, and I have every confidence that all of you will perform your duties with the professionalism I've come to expect from you. All crew, man your stations. Janeway out."

As Harry closed the channel, she took her seat, crossing one too-thin leg over the other.

"Go to red alert."

===0===

The first hit impacted the forward torpedo launchers; the second, the lateral phaser array.

"They are attempting to disable our weapons," Tuvok announced. "Ablative armour is holding at eighty-seven percent."

"Return fire."

"Direct hit on their deflector array. Their navigational systems have been compromised."

"That just made them madder," Paris muttered as he took _Voyager_ into a roll to avoid a volley of torpedoes. "They're in this for keeps, Captain."

"So are we." Janeway stood, clutching the back of his chair. "Tuvok, I want their weapons destroyed. Attack pattern gamma-five."

The expected "Aye, Captain" did not come, and neither did the phaser volley.

Janeway whipped around. "Tuvok?"

He was staring at nothing, eyes vacant, fingers resting lightly on his console.

" _Tuvok_ ," she shouted, just as a torpedo detonated directly against the ship's hull. _Voyager_ groaned, listed sideways, throwing Janeway and several other bridge officers to the deck.

"Report!"

Harry Kim was pulling himself upright. "They found a weak point in the armour," he yelled over the hiss and whine of sparking conduits. "Engineering's been hit. They've taken heavy casualties."

Janeway pushed her hair out of her face. "Send medical and repair teams. Tuvok," she began, turning to him, but he was slumped over his console. " _Damn it_. Someone get him to Sickbay. Where's his relief?"

"Lieutenant Rollins is unconscious. Lieutenant Ayala is on his way," Kim began, but then the turbolift opened. Chakotay stepped out, surveyed the bridge, and moved immediately to the tactical station.

"Commander." Janeway's voice was devoid of emotion. She only hoped her face was, as well. "You shouldn't be here –"

"Your orders, Captain?" he cut her off.

She pressed her lips together, but _Voyager_ lurched under another torpedo strike and she was flung to her knees. Shaking off the ringing in her ears, she nodded to Chakotay. "Target their weapons arrays and fire at will."

"Firing."

The bridge crew watched the firework-bright sparks of the Fen Domar weapons arrays crumpling under the barrage.

"Their weapons have been destroyed."

"Tom, do we have warp drive?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then get us the hell out of here, maximum speed."

~Sickbay to the bridge.~

Kathryn's heart clutched. "Go ahead, Doctor."

~Please send Lieutenant Paris down here as soon as possible. His presence is needed.~

"He's on his way." Janeway didn't wait for Paris' replacement; she slipped behind the helm herself. "Go, Tom."

She felt the back of her neck prickling with the weight of Chakotay's cold gaze.

===0===

The Fen Domar had chased them for a light year before their limping warp drive had forced them to stop. By the time _Voyager_ left their sensor range, Janeway was shaking with dissipated adrenaline, head pounding. She handed the conn to Ensign Culhane and sank into her chair, pulling the centre console toward her. Status reports streamed before her blurring eyes.

"Captain." Lieutenant Kim had left his post, perching nervously on the edge of the first officer's chair. "Alpha shift just finished and I have Beta shift."

She attempted to smile at him. "Trying to get rid of me, Harry?"

"No, ma'am. But you've been on duty for four shifts straight." He swallowed, his gaze darting to Chakotay, silent at Tactical. "I – uh – would you prefer Commander Chakotay to take the bridge?"

Kathryn closed her eyes. Her thought patterns had lost cohesion five minutes ago, and all she wanted to do was put her head down somewhere quiet. But her ship needed her, and so did her crew.

"No," she answered, pushing herself to her feet and praying her knees wouldn't buckle. She forced herself to face the tactical station. "Commander, you're relieved. Mr Kim, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room."

"Aye, Captain," Harry answered, his eyes following Chakotay as the commander silently left the bridge.

===0===

~Sickbay to Captain Janeway.~

The Doctor's voice jerked her awake, and Kathryn sat up, blinking her aching eyes. Disoriented, she stared around. Ready room. Desk. _I fell asleep_ , she realised. God, how could she fall asleep at a time like this?

~Captain, please respond.~

She cleared her throat. "Go ahead, Doctor."

~I've treated and released most of the Engineering crewmen who were wounded in the attack. But I'm afraid Commander Tuvok's condition has deteriorated rapidly. It's my medical opinion that he is no longer fit for duty.~

His pause told her she was going to like what was coming next even less.

"Go on, Doctor." Her gaze fell on the empty coffee cup she'd left on the edge of her desk. Hours ago. It felt like days. It was on the floor now. Her favourite cup; the one Mark had given her when she'd taken command of _Voyager_. She bent to retrieve it.

~I regret to inform you, Captain, that Lieutenant Torres was also injured and has miscarried her baby.~

The cup was cracked, all the way from rim to base. She watched her fingers whiten as they gripped it.

~Captain?~

"Yes, Doctor. I heard you."

~Can you spare Mr Paris for a while?~

"Of course," her voice was a monotone. "Tell him to take as long as he needs."

~Thank you, Captain.~

"Janeway out," she answered.

She stared at the cup. The handle was chipped as well, a chunk of china missing from it. She slipped out of her chair, scanning the floor, hands spidering over the deck.

The door chimed.

"Come."

"Captain, I have the reports from –" Kim stopped. "Captain?"

She didn't answer. There was a speck of white beneath her desk; she crawled under it to pick it up.

Harry crouched beside her. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

"Fine." She sat back on her heels, holding up the piece of china, fitting it into the chipped handle. "There's still some missing."

"Captain?" Harry was staring at her.

"Don't just sit there. Help me find it."

"Find what?"

"The missing piece."

Kim shifted and she heard something crunch under his boot.

"Harry, move your foot." Was that her voice, strangled and breathless? She slapped at Kim's ankle. "Move it!"

He stumbled, trying to get out of her way, and his boot slipped sideways. Janeway stared at the crushed white china where his foot had been.

"It's ruined." There were tears welling up in her eyes, trickling down her face. She caught her breath on a sob. "It's all ruined. Everything."

Harry reached a tentative hand out to her shoulder. "We'll fix it, Captain," he said, patting her awkwardly.

"No." She was heaving now, her chest so tight she wondered briefly if she was having a heart attack. "Nothing can fix it. Everything is wrong. It's always going to be wrong, and it's all my fault!"

She pivoted on her knees, her forehead crashing onto his chest, and Harry Kim put his arms around his captain and held her while she wept.

===0===

"I've given her a sedative." The Doctor's voice was low.

Lieutenant Kim, the sole remaining senior officer who was not in some manner incapacitated, turned away from the frail figure on the biobed. He couldn't be sure whether she looked so helpless simply because she was unconscious – she was always lively, always larger than life – or because he was watching the disintegration of the woman he'd idolised for the past ten years. "Will she be all right?"

The EMH's mouth twisted. "That's a matter of opinion. She's severely malnourished and suffering from dehydration and exhaustion. She's been operating under inhuman levels of stress for almost a decade. And she's just witnessed the violent death of a number of her crew, including her foster daughter, and the mental collapse of her oldest friend. I'd suggest that _all right_ is a relative term, Mr Kim."

"How is Tuvok?"

"Medicated, and meditating in his quarters."

Harry glanced over to the other side of Sickbay. A privacy forcefield shielded the area's occupants from view. "And what about them?"

"Lieutenant Torres is resting comfortably. I've no doubt Lieutenant Paris could use a friend."

"Thanks, Doc." He rested a hand on the hologram's shoulder. "Tough day. I know you've done everything you could."

"I always do," the Doctor sighed, as Harry headed over to offer his best friend a shoulder to cry on.

===0===

 _She'd never known anyone to touch her the way he did, with reverence, as though she was his fondest dream come to life. Even when she urged him to hurt her, when he pushed her face-down over her ready room desk and fucked her deep and hard, his hands gripping her hair, there was something worshipful about it._

 _She had never told him that this, the devotion, the love for her that was so evident in everything he did, was exactly the thing that held her back._

 _But then, he'd never understood that she didn't deserve him._

 _That first night, when he'd come to tell her he was marrying Seven of Nine and she'd known then and there that she was losing him, she'd pushed herself into his hands, wound her arms around his neck and drawn his tongue into her mouth. She'd been aggressive, forceful, clawing at him with her nails and biting into his golden skin. But his hands on her body had been so gentle. She'd begged him to take her, pulled him into her with her ankles locked behind his back, and he'd followed her lead, but after she'd scratched and moaned her way to orgasm, after he came inside her, he held her close and whispered words she didn't want – didn't deserve – to hear._

 _And then she'd sent him home to the woman who would become his wife._

Her eyes felt gritty, and when she finally pried them open, the ceiling was not the one she expected to see.

 _Sickbay_ , she remembered, then curled into a ball as the rest of it came flooding back.

"I know you're awake."

Kathryn's eyes opened again, and her heart thudded sickeningly in her chest. She forced her breathing to calm, forced herself to turn and face her first officer.

 _No_ , she realised as she met his dark, accusing gaze. This wasn't her first officer, or her best friend, or even the man she'd pushed and pulled, loved and lied to for a decade. This was the man whose wife's death was on her conscience.

"Anything you have to say to me," she croaked through a throat dusty from shame, "believe me, Chakotay, I've already heard it from myself."

"Just tell me one thing."

She waited.

"What happens next, Captain?" He all but spat her title at her.

She closed her eyes again. "I'm going to find Alkin," she said so softly she wasn't sure he could hear her, "and I'm going to kill him."

Chakotay's silence said more than any words could. She turned her back on him and prayed he'd leave her alone.

Finally, he pushed the chair back from her bedside and stood. "Do whatever you want, Kathryn. You always do." She heard his footsteps, and then he turned back to add, "But don't you for _one minute_ believe that avenging Seven's death should ease your conscience. This is _your_ guilt to bear."

"I know," she whispered to the empty room, curling up as though she could compress all the hurt into a small, tightly-packed vessel in the pit of her stomach, as though that would make it ache any less.

===0===

(TBC)

Note: In _Endgame_ , when Admiral Janeway refers to her "favourite cup", she implies she's talking about the bog-standard metal thing Captain Janeway is drinking her coffee from. But since there's an identical cup sitting right next to it, and it is, as mentioned, bog-standard, I choose to believe that the "favourite cup" is in fact the "lucky teacup", a fine-china number, as shown in _Year of Hell_. Just in case anyone was wondering.


	8. Chapter 7

_**Chapter Seven**_

 _Stardate 58031.7 – January 12, 2381_

They'd held the memorial service for their six lost crewmembers in the mess hall. Chell had done an exemplary job with the catering, Janeway acknowledged, considering the ship was still on tight rationing. The Kimtones had played _Amazing Grace_ , followed by a haunting Bajoran funeral melody for Tal Celes. Naomi had given a reading, only pausing once to choke back her tears, and even little Miral had stood at attention when the pods – five of them empty, as they had been unable to retrieve the bodies – had been released to the bosun's whistle.

Kathryn had held up, as well. She'd had no choice.

Work helped, and with Tuvok now permanently removed from duty and the ship still in dismal condition, she had plenty of it. They had spent the two days after their second battle with Alkin lurking in the atmosphere of a gas giant. The crew had worked double and triple shifts to repair _Voyager'_ s battered systems, and by the time Janeway had ordered them to resume course she was feeling more confident in their ability to withstand another attack.

That was fortunate, as word of their skirmishes with the Ascendant's heir had travelled: they were being shadowed by no less than seven small Fen Domar vessels, though none approached them. Janeway could only surmise that the Inheritor had ordered his troops to keep track of _Voyager_ , but leave the kill to him.

By the sixth day, they'd had to take refuge in a sensor-scattering asteroid belt; the ablative armour generator had finally overloaded and B'Elanna was working her teams around the clock to restart it. She'd spent less than a day recuperating from her miscarriage before throwing herself back into her work. Janeway considered talking to her about it, but what advice could she give when she knew full well she'd have done the same herself?

As for Chakotay…

He'd returned to duty the day after the memorial service, wearing his grief and anger like a cloak. She had sat beside him on the bridge for the past five days without their exchanging a single meaningful word. Of late, she'd found herself retreating to her ready room within the first ten minutes of each shift.

She missed Seven. She missed Tuvok. And she missed Chakotay, had missed him for years, was almost incapacitated by the pain of missing what they'd once been to each other, before she'd ruined it. What they'd been before Teero, before Ransom, before the Void. She wondered sometimes, as she lay staring at her ceiling in the early hours, if she'd seduced him all those months ago in a desperate attempt to hold onto him, to reconnect, or because she'd wanted to drive the final wedge between them, just so that the missing him would end.

She found she could barely eat even the meagre rations she allowed herself, and she'd stopped visiting Sickbay for her vitamin injections, not wanting to waste the Doctor's simulated breath on lecturing her. Her uniform was now so loose on her she looked like a child in her mother's clothes. She was constantly cold, despite the ship's environmental controls having returned to normal with the stabilising of their power reserves. Her head ached relentlessly, and she couldn't seem to concentrate.

And she was so tired, exhausted to the marrow of her bones, yet sleep eluded her. She lay wakeful each night counting her regrets, and she couldn't remember ever being so lonely in her life.

===0===

 _Stardate 58037.8 – January 14, 2381_

After two days spent hiding in the asteroid field, the ablative armour generator was finally up and running again, and _Voyager_ ventured into open space, only for her luck to run out.

"Alkin's ship is on an intercept course, Captain," Harry warned as they cleared the asteroid belt and their sensors returned to full resolution. "Their armour and weapons are fully powered. They'll reach our coordinates in ninety minutes at present speed."

"Hail them."

~I warned you, Captain,~ Alkin addressed her the moment the viewscreen came on, ~that your escape would be short-lived.~

"I was rather hoping I'd never see you again, Inheritor."

~I, on the other hand, very much look forward to our next meeting. See you soon, Captain.~

His smile was redolent with self-satisfaction, and Janeway wanted to reach through the viewscreen and rip out his pointed teeth.

"Don't bet on it," she snarled, and slashed a hand at Kim.

He closed the channel.

"I want all senior staff in the briefing room in one hour." Janeway pushed herself out of her chair, ignoring the brittle creak of bone and sinew. "Commander, my ready room."

Chakotay got silently to his feet and followed her.

She waved him to a seat, but he remained standing, so she did as well. "Chakotay."

He met her gaze, giving her nothing.

"I don't expect this battle to go well for us," she forced out. "Alkin doesn't strike me as the type to give up easily. And I'll die before I allow him to take any more of my crew."

His focus sharpened on her face. "You'd destroy _Voyager_."

"I'd do _anything_ ," Kathryn emphasised. "And I need to know –" she swallowed, "are you with me on this?"

She stared at him, willing him to understand. Waiting for the faintest sign, the slightest flicker in his eyes that would give her the hope she needed so desperately.

"Chakotay." It was the barest whisper. "Please."

"I'm with you, Kathryn." His voice was gruff, but with a soft edge she hadn't heard in weeks. "I always have been."

She closed her eyes against the blur of tears. He didn't understand.

Or if he did, he was utterly lost to her now. Either way, her path was clear.

"Dismissed, Commander."

===0===

The senior staff – what was left of them – filed into the briefing room. Ayala took the place that was once Tuvok's, and Chakotay deliberately didn't look toward the chair where Seven used to sit. Megan Delaney filled that spot now.

Janeway had not yet appeared, and Kim was shifting uncomfortably; it wasn't like her to be late. Paris cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"Uh, should someone contact the captain?"

The first officer checked the chronometer and allowed a frown to crease his forehead. "Chakotay to Janeway."

No answer.

"Computer, locate Captain Janeway."

~Captain Janeway is not on board _Voyager_.~

Harry's eyes went wide.

"Computer, when did Captain Janeway leave the ship, and by what method?" Chakotay's voice was strained.

~Captain Janeway departed the ship in escape pod alpha-one at 1823 hours.~

Chakotay gripped the edge of the conference table, his breathing harsh. 'Identify the escape pod's trajectory."

~That information is not available.~

"Forget it," he rasped, standing. "I already know. Stations, everybody. The captain has a forty-minute head start on us."

"Sir?" Paris was staring at him. "Where did she go?"

"She went to give herself up to Alkin. Move it, Paris. If we don't catch up to her pod before Alkin does, she's dead."

===0===

She'd overridden the security controls so Ayala wouldn't be alerted to what she planned to do, and masked the pod's warp trail, setting a course for the Fen Domar ship at maximum speed. She knew it was only a matter of time before Chakotay figured it out, and she had no intention of giving him the chance to stop her from completing this mission. Her last mission.

But she had enough distance on them now; even at maximum warp, _Voyager_ couldn't catch her. Janeway eased back to half impulse and opened a channel to Alkin's ship.

===0===

"Commander, I've located the captain's pod." Harry Kim was clearly struggling for control. "The Fen ship has it in a tractor beam."

"Paris," Chakotay snapped.

"I'm sorry, sir. We're still too far away."

"Ayala, weapons and armour status?"

"Torpedoes and phasers at full power. Ablative armour is holding."

"Get us there, Paris. I'm not letting them take her."

"Aye –" Tom stopped. "Sir, the warp engines are failing. There's some kind of energy drain. I can't hold our speed. We're at warp six point two and decreasing …"

 _Voyager_ shuddered, whined, and coasted to a halt.

"Engineering, report," Chakotay roared.

~She triggered a power drain on a timer,~ Torres called back over the comm. ~The energy conduits to the core just shut down. There's a level ten lockout on them. I can break it, but it'll take time.~

"Get on it."

"Commander," Kim interjected. "A priority one message was just flagged on my console. It's addressed to your eyes only."

"In the ready room," snarled Chakotay, striding from his chair. "Paris, the bridge is yours."

"Sir," Paris' voice stopped him before he could reach the doors. "The Fen Domar ship just went to warp. They're gone."

The swish of the ready room doors closing was the only answer.

===0===

 _Chakotay_ , said the image of the captain on the ready room monitor. _By the time you watch this, it will all be ove_ r.

She was so thin. How had he not noticed how thin she'd become?

 _The warp engines will come back online in one hour. I didn't want to leave you without warp drive, but I had to make sure you couldn't come after me. And I don't want you to come after me, Chakotay. This is the last order I'll ever give you, and I need you to let me go. Please._

She smiled, but he'd never seen her look so sad.

 _I've deactivated my access codes and transferred command to you._ Voyager _is yours now. Get out of Fen space as soon as you can. Set a course for home, and don't look back._

She leaned in, hesitated, then raised her hand to the screen, palm facing outward, as though she could link her fingers with his. He found himself mirroring the gesture, his hand meeting hers against the vidscreen.

 _I've done this all wrong, Chakotay. So many things I regret. If I could only go back in time –_

He watched as a tear slipped from her eye, then another.

 _I'm sorry_ , she whispered. _Goodbye_.

The screen went black.

===0===

The one Inheritor Alkin had referred to as Falit was talking at her. She couldn't hear him over the buzzing in her ears, but he seemed displeased with her answers.

Was she answering him? She couldn't be sure. Maybe her lips were moving. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the pain.

Her veins were burning, liquid fire licking through every nerve and sinew. They'd injected her with something. She remembered the bite of the needle, her skin warming, then the fire. She'd twisted in its grasp but she couldn't get away from it. Her wrists were locked to the low bulkhead above her, her toes barely scraping the floor, and she couldn't get purchase.

They'd laughed at her; she could remember that clearly. They had stripped the jacket from her, yanked off her boots, sliced open her turtleneck. Falit had seemed disinterested in her body but the others weren't. She wasn't sure which was worse – the agony of the fire in her veins, or the feel of their hands on her body.

"… shield frequencies?" she thought she heard, and she said something in return, and Falit's dark face scowled at her. "… needs more incentive…"

Alkin's smile swam into her field of vision and she worked her mouth, gathering saliva, and spat at it. The smile disappeared. Then there was pain, blinding, against her nose and cheekbone, and blood trickled into her mouth. Her face throbbed.

"Is that … the best … you can do?"

The smile was back. And then the fire licked over her back, the whip lacerating her skin again and again, and she howled at the pain and the shock and the indignity of it.

"I'll … kill you," she rasped, and then the darkness claimed her and she welcomed it.

===0===

"Warp drive is back online, Commander," Paris' voice was slack with relief.

"Set a course for the last known coordinates of that ship and engage at maximum. Chakotay to Astrometrics."

~Delaney here.~

"Extend the sensors as far as you can and find me that goddamned ship, Ensign."

~Aye, sir.~

 _I'd do anything_ , she'd said. _I'll die before I allow him to take any more of my crew_.

He'd thought she meant she would set the self-destruct if _Voyager_ was losing the battle. Not that she'd offer herself up to avoid the fight altogether.

Chakotay's fingers dug into the arm of his chair. Why hadn't he known? Why didn't he understand what she'd been telling him?

He should have known.

A few years ago, even a year ago, he would have known. But she'd become a stranger to him. He didn't know who she was anymore.

 _I'll tell you when we made our mistake. It was the moment we turned away from each other._

She'd said that to him, years ago, after their first major disagreement. They'd turned away from each other again and again over the years since. And even when they'd turned toward each other – when he'd held her, her skin against his, his body in hers – even then, _especially then_ , they'd been moving apart.

He didn't know if they could ever bridge that chasm. All he knew was that he'd give up his last breath to try.

===0===

 _A tear slipped down her cheek and she struggled to contain the ache swelling in her throat, even as she couldn't stop the helpless smile from spreading across her face. And then another tear, and another. His smile faded into concern, his fingers squeezing lightly, linked with hers._

" _Kathryn?"_

 _She shook her head, gulped in a deep breath, tried to pull together the remnants of the control his words had shattered. "I can't – Nobody has ever –" her face crumpled, and he rose from his chair and came around the small work-table, pulling her up and into his arms. She clutched onto him, his cheek against her hair as she sobbed and laughed and hiccupped. When, finally, she quieted, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to raise her face, to let her lips find his, to take his hands in hers and shuffle backwards along the cabin floor, to take him into her bed, her body, her soul._

Thick fingers twined into her hair and she couldn't bite back a groan, but the sharp ache in her neck was subsumed by the agony of the whip biting into the soft flesh of her stomach. She jerked against the restraints.

"… very helpful," Alkin's hated voice floated across her consciousness. "Thank you … now … command codes."

She closed her eyes.

 _The sun was hot on her back and she sat on her heels, wiping a grimy hand across her forehead._

" _Here," he grinned, dropping to his knees beside her and holding out a water flask. She took it gratefully, drank._

 _His thumb brushed her cheekbone as she set the flask on the ground, and as always she shivered at his touch, the newness, the sweetness of it. He leaned in to kiss her lightly and she curled a hand around his neck and pulled him down with her, twining arms and legs around him and feeling his response. So immediate. So gratifying._

 _The kiss turned heated. He groaned into her mouth, his hands finding the places on her body that came alive for him. Her skirt pushed up around her waist, his pants shoved down over his hips, they gasped and ground their way to climax in the sun and the soil of their new world, and as she held him to her breast she wondered what she'd ever done to deserve this, to deserve him._

"Your command codes, Captain."

Her teeth ached and her wrists throbbed dully. She could feel blood, thick and warm, tickling her cheek. She knew her ribs were cracked. It hurt to breathe.

"I'll never … tell you."

It didn't matter anyway. A laugh bubbled up in her throat. However hard he beat her, whatever he did. Her codes had been changed the moment she left _Voyager_. Her answers were meaningless.

The laugh spilled over, and Alkin's face appeared before her, smile gone. "What's so amusing?"

"The joke…" she gasped, "the joke is … on you."

 _But the joke was on her. The commbadge chirped, a sound so incongruous it took effort to identify it, and everything changed._

 _She hadn't meant to hurt him so deeply. She'd thought, after_ Voyager _came back for them, that they'd need a period of adjustment. That once they'd figured out how to be captain and commander again, she would go to him. That there would be a moment when she could resolve what they'd become on that planet with what they had to be again. A moment when she knew it was right._

 _There was no perfect moment. There was Seska and Braxton and Q, and Riley Frazier, and the Borg and the Vori and the Hirogen. And Kashyk, and Jaffen, and Seven, and she'd rebuilt the duranium walls around her heart, stronger and higher with each raw, singular, devastating blow, and it wasn't until far, far too late that she realised that they'd missed their moment, if they had ever really had one._

Alkin stepped forward, bent his close-cropped head and sank his teeth into the tender skin above her collarbone, and Kathryn Janeway screamed.

===0===

~Commander Chakotay to the bridge.~

Chakotay surged through the ready room doors. "Report, Harry?"

"We've found them. Coordinates one-eight-one mark two-zero. Distance, two point three light years. At maximum warp we can be there in six hours."

He sank into his seat, carefully, deliberately not looking at the vacant chair to his right. "Do it."

"Commander, a Fen vessel is on fast approach. It's three light years away."

"The Inheritor?"

"No, sir." Harry looked up. "It's a similar design, but smaller. It seems to have some kind of refractive shielding in addition to the ablative armour. Our sensors didn't detect it until just now."

Chakotay swore under his breath. "How long until it intercepts us?"

"At least eight hours, sir. We'll reach Alkin's vessel in four."

"Good. Keep an eye on –"

"Sir, we're being hailed," Kim interrupted.

"On screen."

The viewscreen switched to an image of a tall, heavily-muscled Fen, his chest plated in silver armour and a heavy violet cloak draped from his broad shoulders. His tawny skin was lined, his hair white and short-cropped. He bore a strong resemblance to Alkin.

~I am Ascendant Vikan of the Fen.~

"Commander Chakotay of the Federation starship _Voyager_." Chakotay studied him. "We're acquainted with your son, Ascendant. He's responsible for the murder of six of my crew and the abduction of my captain."

~Whom, it appears, you intend to retrieve.~

"I do."

~Your rescue mission is futile.~ The Ascendant's black eyes gave nothing away. ~Your captain is already dead, or as good as. By the time you reach my heir's ship, there will be nothing left of her to retrieve.~

"If you don't mind," Chakotay's voice was dangerously soft, "I'd prefer to discover that for myself."

Vikan leaned forward. ~You've trespassed on my territory for long enough. Proceed immediately to our borders. Leave, and don't look back.~

"Or?"

~Or your ship will be destroyed, your crew exterminated, and your story will become a cautionary tale for any alien tempted to breach the sovereignty of the Fen Ascendancy.~

Chakotay stared into Vikan's eyes.

"Thanks for the warning, Ascendant." His lips curved in a humourless smile. "But I prefer to tell my own stories. Harry, close the channel."

There was a quiet on the bridge as Chakotay continued to stare at the viewscreen, now displaying only the streaking starfield.

"Paris," he said abruptly. "In the ready room. Now."

"Sir?"

"You're my acting first officer, aren't you?" Chakotay turned his cold stare on the helmsman. "I might have a way out of this, and I need another perspective. So get your ass into that ready room and act like a first officer."

"Yes, sir," Tom Paris answered, a faint smile gracing his lips for the first time in days.

===0===

She pushed upward through muffling layers of half-awareness. Her limbs were sunken weights, sounds deadened in her ears. As her consciousness struggled to assert itself she was seized by panic.

 _Where am I? What am I doing here?_

 _Have I failed?_

"Wake up, Kathryn."

She opened her eyes.

"Ah, there you are." Alkin smiled genially at her. "I thought you'd like to know your intrepid little ship is on its way to us. I expect they're planning to mount a rescue." He laughed.

"No," she couldn't stifle her groan. _Damn him_. Why couldn't he, just this once, obey her orders?

 _I'd never leave you behind, Kathryn._

She should have known.

She _had_ known. She'd just hoped it would be too late.

"Your crew is certainly devoted to you, Captain. I've learned quite a lot about them during our conversations."

"You mean … while you were … _torturing_ me." She coughed, swallowed against a throat dry from screaming.

"Drink."

Alkin held up a flask, pushing a straw between her lips, and she sipped automatically. The liquid – not water, but cool and soothing – eased her scorched throat.

"There. Now we can talk some more."

"I have … nothing to say … to you."

"Oh, I think you do." Alkin tapped a finger on his lower lip. "I want to know about your second in command."

"Not … going to happen."

"What kind of man is he?" The Inheritor began to circle her, close enough she could feel his breath brushing her cheek as he passed. "Is he a warrior? A strategist?" Alkin leaned in, whispering against her ear. "How loyal is he to you, Captain? Enough to risk the safety of your ship to get you back?"

She ignored him. Her lungs were tightening, constricting, as though she was drowning. As though she was sinking slowly underwater.

 _Not water._

"Damn … you," she gasped, as ice seared her veins. "What was … in that … drink?"

"Oh, nothing fatal, I assure you." Alkin tilted her chin up with one finger. "Just a little chemical incentive to keep you honest."

A convulsion rippled through her, her spine bowing. The pain was indescribable.

"Tell me," Alkin murmured, his lips inches from hers, "does he care about you, Kathryn? Does he love you?"

She shuddered, turning her face away. He spread his fingers across her jaw, bringing her eyes back to him.

"Are you lovers?" The tips of his fingers stroked her skin. "Tell me, Kathryn."

"Yes," she heard herself saying, then bit her tongue in horror.

"I see the serum is beginning to work. Good. What will he do, Kathryn? What will his rescue strategy be?"

She struggled, tried not to answer. "You'd better hope … you never find out."

The fingers tightened, bruising her jaw. "Answer me, Kathryn. What will he do?"

"You murdered … his wife," she ground out, teeth clenched against the agony in her veins. "He's going to … kill you."

Alkin's smile was wide. "He's welcome to try."

===0===

(TBC)


	9. Chapter 8

_**Chapter Eight**_

 _Stardate 58042.7 – January 16, 2381_

~Give her back. _Now_.~

 _No_ , Kathryn thought as she struggled back to consciousness. _Oh, no_.

She tried to speak, but moving her lips and tongue seemed impossible.

"Oh, I don't think so," Alkin was responding smoothly. "Your captain and I have been having a wonderful time getting to know each other."

The rest of his speech faded out as Janeway clamped her mouth shut against a surge of nausea. _God, what was in that serum?_ How long had she been out?

"… in fact, we were just getting to her command codes when you so rudely interrupted us."

Not long, then. Or she'd been conscious, but unaware. Janeway tried to moisten her desiccated lips. She couldn't _think_ –

~ _Kathryn_.~

Oh, God, the anguish, the torment in his voice. _I'm sorry, Chakotay_ , she tried to convey. _You were never meant to witness this_.

She felt cool air on her stomach as someone grasped the tattered remnants of her tank and lifted it. And then Alkin was shouting in her ear, gripping her hair, yanking her head up, and she opened her eye, the one that wasn't swollen and crusted with blood.

She was looking at _Voyager_ 's bridge. And her officers – Harry, Samantha, Tom, _Chakotay_ – were staring back at her. Sam's face was grey, and Harry had tears in his eyes.

Chakotay … She'd never seen such a look in his eyes before. Fierce. Untethered. Savage.

She closed her eye.

"For such a scrawny creature," Alkin commented, "she has proved remarkably resistant. She bears pain quite well."

And he leaned in close, showily, his breath hot on her cheek, and _licked_ her from jaw to temple. She willed her stomach not to rebel.

"Tell me _Voyage_ r's command codes," he smirked.

Janeway turned a malevolent eye to him and spat her denial with all the breath she could muster.

~ _Let her go_ ,~ she heard Chakotay bellow.

"Let her go?" Alkin's voice was thick with delight. And she knew what he was going to do.

 _Let her go_ , she'd demanded, days ago when he held Nina Jenkins at his mercy. And he'd thrown her to the deck, stripped off her uniform, and –

 _No_ , her clenching heart pleaded, _not this. Not like this_.

But Falit was there with his knife, slicing through the remains of her uniform, leaving her naked and exposed and oh, so helpless. He released her restraints, pushed her to her knees. She struggled, tried to get up, a last desperate attempt to avoid her fate, but Falit's boot weighed onto the base of her back, and her arms gave out beneath her.

She felt Alkin behind her, raising her hips, thick fingers invading her, and the protest in her head was deafening but her voice was weak, so weak.

"But my dear," oozed the voice she loathed, would despise for the remainder of her hopefully short life, "don't you want me to show your lover how it's done?"

And it was the final blow, the last strike to her crumbling defences. That he could taunt her, taunt Chakotay, with the secret she'd so jealously guarded, the secret he'd pried from her in her weakness, left Kathryn with nothing.

The pain, when it came, was almost a relief.

===0===

"Lieutenant Ayala." Chakotay couldn't take his eyes from the deadened viewscreen. "Fire."

A tirade of phaser fire streaked into the space between the two vessels, barraging, pummelling, never letting up.

"Their armour integrity is falling," Kim reported from Ops, his voice as dispassionate as a Vulcan's. "Seventy-five percent. Seventy. Sixty-eight…"

"Torpedoes."

Fire blossomed over the Fen ship's hull.

"Their armour is down to forty-five percent. They're retaliating."

"Brace for impact."

 _Voyager_ pitched and reeled, and a console went up in sparks.

"Negligible damage. Our armour is holding."

"Bring them down, Ayala. Harry, get a transporter lock on her and beam her home as soon as their armour fails."

One nanoprobe torpedo arced toward the Fen Domar ship, and impacted directly with its ablative armour generator. "Armour down," Ayala announced with grim satisfaction. "They're defenceless."

"Incoming," Kim warned, and the bridge crew braced themselves as a series of explosions battered the hull. "Transporter targeting scanners have been damaged, Commander. I can't maintain a clean lock."

"Set the scanners to wide dispersal and beam every life sign in her vicinity to the transporter room," Chakotay growled. "Chakotay to Baxter. The minute those patterns rematerialize, beam the captain to Sickbay and the rest to the brig."

~Understood,~ the transporter chief responded.

"Commander." Ayala was staring at his console. "There's some kind of overload in the Fen ship's warp core. That ship is going to breach in less than ten seconds."

"Harry!" Chakotay roared.

"Energising." Kim's jaw was clenched. "I've got her! Two Fen life signs were caught in the beam. The captain's life signs are failing, sir."

"Baxter?"

~The captain is in Sickbay, sir. Two aliens have been beamed to the brig.~

"Commander," Paris broke in, "that ship's on a collision course…"

"Get us out of here _now_."

"Aye," Paris had already keyed in an escape course. "Engaging at full impulse."

"The Fen ship has exploded," Ayala reported. "The shockwave is approaching."

"Increasing to warp two," Paris responded.

A scorching white glow filled the viewscreen. _Voyager_ trembled, the bridge crew holding its collective breath. And then the shuddering dissipated, and Paris breathed a sigh of relief.

"We're clear."

Chakotay rested a hand briefly on the helmsman's shoulder. "Good work, all of you. You have the bridge, Mr Kim."

"Aye, Commander."

Chakotay met Paris' gaze, his own giving nothing away. "The Doctor's going to need you in Sickbay. I'll be in the brig."

===0===

"Inheritor Alkin."

The Fen rose slowly, black eyes opaque with rage. "Return me to my ship."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible." Chakotay stepped up to the forcefield, "Your ship was destroyed. You and your comrade here are the only survivors."

The other Fen paced forward, baring his teeth. "Falit," Alkin snapped, and the soldier moved back. "What are your intentions?" he demanded of Chakotay.

The commander allowed himself a small smile. "I haven't decided yet."

The Inheritor folded his arms across his chest. "Indecision is an ineffective trait in a ship's captain."

"I'm not this ship's captain." The reply was soft and deadly.

Alkin smirked. "You will be soon. Kathryn is dying."

"If she dies," Chakotay answered, "so do you. You can count on that."

"My father would track you down and wreak vengeance on you. You would never leave our space alive."

Chakotay's gaze locked onto his. "It might well be worth it."

===0===

 _Christ_ , thought Paris, holding the micro-suture device as the EMH worked frantically to seal ruptured blood vessels and repair torn muscles. He was trying to view the patient as a triage case, a collection of physical injuries. He was failing.

"Mr Paris," snapped the Doctor. "If you can't hold that device steady, you're no use to me."

"Sorry, Doc." He cleared his throat and wrenched his gaze away from the captain's battered face.

"Thank you," the EMH muttered. "Surgical regenerator."

Tom reached for the device and placed it in the Doctor's palm, watching as scored and bleeding flesh knit itself together.

An alarm shrilled, and Paris jumped. The Doctor whirled around to check the readout. "There's some kind of chemical in her blood stream. It's inhibiting cell oxygenation. Ten ccs of cholomydride."

As soon as it was in his hand, the Doctor applied the hypospray to the captain's throat.

"Monitor her blood gases."

"She's stabilising," Paris reported in relief.

"Good. Repair the fractured ribs, then reduce the cranial swelling. I need to devise a treatment for the chemical imbalance." The Doctor trotted into his office.

The Sickbay doors opened. Paris was too busy concentrating on knitting bone to look up, but he knew immediately who'd come in.

"How is she?" Chakotay asked, eyes riveted to the parcel of blood and bones on the biobed.

"About as good as she looks." Paris switched off the osteo-regenerator and picked up another tool, moving to the head of the biobed. "There's some kind of chemical in her bloodstream that's sucking the oxygen out of her cells. Doc's in his office working on a treatment."

"Will she live?"

Tom looked up. "You'll have to ask the Doctor. But at the moment she's stable."

"She's unconscious," Chakotay pointed out.

"Yeah." Paris switched off the cranial scanner. "To be honest, Chakotay, that's probably a good thing. She's taken some heavy punishment and she'd be in a lot of pain if she was awake."

"Ah, Commander." The Doctor bustled out of his office. "I assume you've come for a report."

"An edited one, please, Doctor." Chakotay moved closer to the biobed. His hand twitched, wanting to take hold of hers, but he was too afraid of causing her any more pain.

"You can hold her hand," the Doctor said, his tone unusually gentle as he applied a hypospray to the captain's neck. "I've synthesised an antigen that should neutralise the chemical reaction in her blood cells. Mr Paris and I will need to continue healing her wounds, but we can work around you if you'd like to sit with her."

Chakotay found himself backing up, away from the emaciated figure on the biobed. "I need to get back to the bridge. Contact me if there's any change in her condition."

He could feel Paris' eyes following him as he made his escape.

===0===

"Hail the Ascendant's ship." Chakotay settled into his chair.

"They're responding," Kim answered immediately.

~ _Voyager_ ,~ the Ascendant snarled. ~You destroyed my son's vessel.~

"To be precise, we didn't destroy it. The warp core overloaded. And they had it coming."

~You killed him,~ Vikan bellowed.

"On the contrary. Your son is in my brig, along with one of his officers. And I'll be happy to return them to you in exchange for safe passage through your space."

The Ascendant's eyes narrowed. ~Why should I trust you?~

"Because you don't have a choice. Do we have a deal?"

~And if I disagree?~

"The minute one of your ships so much as drifts in our direction, I'll blow your son out the nearest airlock." Chakotay rose to his feet. "Your answer, Ascendant?"

The Fen stared at him. Chakotay stared calmly back.

~We have a deal,~ Vikan finally replied.

"Good. I'll contact you when we reach your border. I don't want to hear from you or any of your people until then." Chakotay allowed a smile to curve his lips. " _Voyager_ out."

===0===

He couldn't put it off any longer.

 _Voyager_ was safe – relatively – and Beta shift had arrived to relieve the bridge crew. Chakotay had retreated to the ready room hours ago to wade through the ever-increasing pile of damage and status reports. The Doctor had reported that Janeway's injuries had been healed and he'd started her on a course of neodextramine and vitamins. She had woken briefly, but he'd given her pain relief and a sedative. It was a testament to the seriousness of the captain's condition that she hadn't objected.

Chakotay left the ready room and trudged slowly toward Sickbay. The adrenaline that had kept him sharp during the battle, the rescue, the negotiation, had dissolved, leaving him feeling sick and shaken.

And very, very angry.

The EMH was back in his office when Chakotay entered Sickbay, but Lieutenant Paris was sitting at the captain's bedside, her hand held in his as he talked softly to her sleeping form. Chakotay couldn't hear what he was saying. Paris fell quiet as the commander approached.

"How is she?"

"Out of the woods. She's going to be stuck here for a few days while the Doc gets her fattened up, which I'm sure is going to thrill her." He pushed back his chair. "Here, sit down."

Chakotay slid into the chair and sat staring at her.

"I'll leave you to it."

But when Paris had gone, he found he still didn't know what to say to her. So he took her hand, carefully, because her bones felt as brittle as twigs, and he just looked at her. Drank her in, in a way he would never dare and she would never permit were she aware of it.

When the Doctor emerged from his office to check on his patient three hours later, he found the commander asleep in the chair beside her bed, the captain's hand cradled gently between his own.

===0===

 _Stardate 58086.4 – February 1, 2381 – Two Weeks Later_

"We're approaching the border of Fen space, Commander."

"All stop. Send a subspace message to Ascendant Vikan. Tell him we're ready to talk."

Harry Kim nodded. "Vikan should receive the message in about two hours, sir."

"Good." Chakotay got to his feet. "I'll be in the ready room."

Kathryn hadn't set foot in this room for two weeks, but as he entered Chakotay fancied he could smell her scent. It was ridiculous, of course; the environmental controls had long since recycled the air. Still, he couldn't help but take a slow breath in, imagining the scent of roses and coffee.

He was deeply concerned about her.

She'd chafed at the Doctor's insistence that she stay in Sickbay for the first three days of her recovery; that wasn't unexpected. And she'd objected to being ordered off-duty until she'd regained some of the weight – and the strength – she'd lost. But when Chakotay had gone to see her a few nights ago and asked if she was ready to return to command, she'd haltingly, quietly told him she wasn't.

She wasn't the same. But then, had he really expected she would be?

Neither was he. The anger, the rage that had taken root inside him over Seven's death, that had twined its tendrils into his gut while Kathryn was held hostage on that Fen ship, had not withered with time and distance. He didn't know if it ever would, and he wasn't sure he wanted it to.

~Janeway to Chakotay.~

Chakotay tapped his commbadge. "Go ahead, Captain."

~Would you come to my quarters, please?~

"On my way," he answered, and dragged himself to his feet.

===0===

"I want to see him."

Chakotay stared at her. Kathryn stood erect, still so thin but holding herself as though her bones were infused with steel. Her chin was held high, her eyes direct.

"What possible good could that do?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered quietly. "But it's something I need to do. I was hoping –"

"Yes?"

"I was hoping you'd come with me." Her eyes were clouded now. "I'll understand if you don't want to, but …" she tried to smile, "your support would mean a lot to me."

"Of course," he said. "You've know you've always had my support."

"Thank you, Chakotay."

He stepped aside so she could precede him into the hallway.

===0===

Chakotay dismissed the security officer and followed Janeway over to Alkin's cell.

"Captain Janeway." The Fen didn't bother getting up, smirking at her from his position sprawled on the cot. "What a delightful surprise."

Janeway stepped forward, moving right up to the forcefield. "Inheritor Alkin."

Chakotay stood to her left, a hand on her shoulder. Alkin's gaze moved to him. "And the faithful first officer. You must be happy to have your lover back, Commander." He paused. "Although I'm afraid I may have broken her a little."

Kathryn put a steadying hand on Chakotay's arm. "We aren't lovers," she told the Fen flatly. "And you overestimate your influence, Inheritor. I've faced far greater enemies than you."

"Oh, I don't think I'm overestimating anything, Kathryn."

" _Captain_ ," she corrected, voice frigid. "And the way I see it, you're in my brig. That puts you incontrovertibly under _my_ influence."

"Not for long," Alkin replied lazily. He returned his gaze to Chakotay. "Your commander made a deal with my father: my freedom for your safe passage out of our space. He didn't make that deal with _me_."

"Meaning?" Janeway's tone was ice.

"Meaning," Alkin rose slowly to his feet, moving toward her until only the forcefield separated them and she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, "that my _influence_ doesn't stop at the border of the Ascendancy." He allowed his gaze to travel insolently downward over her body. She stiffened. Alkin returned his gaze to her face and continued, "And I haven't had my fill of you yet."

"That's enough," Chakotay growled.

Alkin stepped back with a satisfied smile.

"If you come after us," Janeway said evenly, "I promise you won't live to regret it."

She brushed past Chakotay and stalked out of the brig.

Chakotay's eyes had never left the Inheritor's face.

"Do you have something to say to me, Commander?" Alkin drawled.

"Computer," Chakotay said, "deactivate internal sensors and seal the brig doors until further notice."

The computer chirped obligingly, and Chakotay smiled.

===0===

"The Ascendant is sending a ship to rendezvous with us, Commander. It should intercept us in twenty minutes."

"We're not waiting for it." Chakotay took his seat. "I've escorted our prisoners to escape pod gamma-twelve. Launch it, Harry."

"Aye, sir," Kim said, concealing his surprise. "Escape pod is away."

The bridge crew watched as the pod went to warp.

"Tom, get us out of here. I want as much distance between us and Fen space as possible."

"Engaging at warp eight," Paris replied.

The silence on the bridge was broken twenty minutes later. "Incoming transmission from the Fen ship," Harry announced.

"On screen."

An unfamiliar Fen appeared on the viewscreen, tawny face distorted with rage. Before he could speak, Chakotay cut in.

"Tell the Ascendant that his son had it coming. And if he attempts to come after us, I'll blast him out of the sky." He nodded to Harry. "End transmission."

The screen went blank, and Chakotay met Paris' understanding gaze. "You have the bridge, Tom." He smiled without humour. "Depending on my next conversation with the captain, you might have it until she's ready to return to duty."

===0===

"You _murdered_ him?"

"Yes, Captain." Chakotay stood at attention in the captain's dim-lit quarters. "With your permission, I'll report immediately to the brig." He reached up to his collar, removing his rank bar, and placed it carefully on her desk.

She rose from the couch and came directly up to him, staring into his eyes. For a long moment she was silent. Then, "Permission denied."

"Captain?"

"Sit down, Chakotay."

Cautiously, he settled onto the couch. She lowered herself beside him, her body angled toward his.

"You've put me in an untenable position, Commander," she began. "Starfleet regulations are crystal-clear on this matter. By all rights, you ought to be court-martialled and sentenced to imprisonment." She linked her hands in her lap. "But I can't run this ship without you. And Starfleet is so very far away."

"Captain…"

Janeway held up a hand. "Who knows about this?"

He paused. "Tom Paris does. Or at least, he suspects. As would the bridge crew who heard my conversation with the Fen captain."

"Suspicion is one thing. Who actually _knows_?"

"I suppose," he said slowly, "you could say that technically, nobody knows."

"The brig security logs?"

"I deactivated them."

"Witnesses?"

"Only Falit. And he's gone."

"I see." She thought for a moment, then raised her eyes to him. "I won't pretend not to understand why you did it, Chakotay. And I'm sorrier than you can imagine that my choices led you to this."

"What are you talking about?"

Kathryn stood, facing away from him, thin arms wrapped around herself. "You begged me to turn back from Fen space, and I refused. You told me you knew something awful was going to happen that day, and I wouldn't listen." She turned back to him, eyes shimmering with tears. "Seven, Jenkins, Celes, the others – they died because of me."

"No." Chakotay strode over to her, gripping her upper arms. "They died because of Alkin. I don't blame you for Seven's death."

"You did," she whispered.

He shook his head. "I was angry when I said that. Kathryn, this wasn't your fault."

"It _was_." She stared up at him furiously, eyes welling, body trembling. " _I_ chose to ignore your advice. _I_ chose to send Seven and the others on that away mission. _I_ chose to give myself up to that – that animal who – _raped_ me in front of my _crew_ …" She choked, wrenching out of his grasp. "I'm not fit to captain this ship, Chakotay. My judgement can't be trusted."

"Listen to me," he shouted. "You are the _only_ one who can captain this ship. You want to talk about bad judgement? I killed a man in cold blood, Kathryn!" His voice broke. "I didn't do it to defend myself or to save the crew, or for any idealistic reasons. I killed him for _revenge_. And the worst part is that I'm not even sorry for it."

He turned his back on her, curling his hands into fists, breathing hard.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not sorry either, Chakotay." There was no anger in her voice, nothing but fatigue. "I'm glad you killed him. If you hadn't, and if I'd had the chance, I would have killed him myself."

"Kathryn," he whispered. "You don't mean that."

"Yes," she answered, "I do. And that's why I won't let you go to prison for something I would have done in a heartbeat." Her voice strengthened. "So pin that rank bar back on your collar, Commander, because I need you on the bridge."

"And you?" he asked quietly, turning to face her.

"As you said, I'm the captain." She straightened her shoulders. "It's time I remembered that."

Chakotay scooped up his rank bar from the desk and handed it to her. She fastened it to his collar and forced herself to smile.

He pulled her into his embrace, his arms closing gently around her.

"We'll get through this," he told her softly. "We'll help each other."

 _You're not alone, Kathryn._

"I know."

Kathryn rested her cheek against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his solid, dependable heart.

===0===

(TBC)


	10. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

 _Stardate 59013.5 – January 5, 2382 – Eleven Months Later_

It was foolish of her to be nervous, Kathryn Janeway reminded herself as she pressed the chime on her first officer's door. She tightened her grip on the bottle of wine.

"Come in."

His quarters were dimly lit, a squat candle on the coffee table the only illumination. Chakotay looked up as she entered.

"Captain," he said, his voice edged with surprise. He rolled up his medicine bundle and unwound himself from the floor, standing to face her. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you might like to share this with me." She held the wine before her like a shield. "In honour of Seven."

She saw pain flash across his face before it smoothed out into his habitual polite mask, and instantly regretted coming here. Her instincts had been right, after all.

Despite their promise to help each other, all those months ago, she had struggled with the aftermath of her violation at Alkin's hands. That her crew had been witness to it sickened her. That they also knew she'd carried on an adulterous affair with her first officer shamed her. It took everything she had to rise each morning, to dress and put on her pips, to carry her shoulders straight and her chin high.

And Chakotay … He'd been there for her at first, checking up on her, encouraging her to talk to him, but she'd found talking about it unbearably hard. For a while they had tried to reinstate their weekly dinners, but the silence between them had grown too painful, too wide a chasm to bridge, and gradually the dinners had stopped.

They would never again be what they were.

"I'm sorry," she said. "This was a mistake. I'll leave you alone."

"Wait."

She turned. His eyes had softened.

"I know you're hurting too, Kathryn." Chakotay took a step toward her. "Stay. I'll get the glasses."

She settled onto the couch as he poured the wine, watching him. He had changed over the past year – not just inside, but outside as well. His body was leanly muscled, not an ounce of extra fat on him – she knew he spent almost all his off-hours boxing, or playing hoverball with B'Elanna – and he looked sleek, somehow. Like a predator.

She had changed as well. She had never fully regained the weight she'd lost during their journey through Fen space, and she ached in places that had never bothered her before. She slept precious little these days, lived on coffee, and she'd noticed a fine tremor in her hands on occasion. There was white coming through in her hair and she tried not to look too long in the mirror these mornings.

The Doctor said she'd recovered from her injuries on the Fen ship, that her pain was psychosomatic, but she knew deep down she would never really recover. She accepted the pain, though. It was her penance.

Chakotay handed her a glass. "To Seven," he said, holding up his own.

"To Seven," she echoed, and sipped.

They were both broken. She might show it more, physically, but something had gone out of Chakotay a year ago; there was no light in his eyes anymore. She supposed one could only take so much grief, so much loss, before the risk of opening up was too great.

"I loved her, you know."

His voice startled her, and her gaze flew to his face.

"You once said I didn't love her. But I did."

"It was wrong of me to say that." Her throat hurt. "She loved you, too. Very much."

"Yes. It wasn't fair to her."

Kathryn frowned. Chakotay set down his wine.

"Seven knew she'd never be first in my heart. She deserved to be loved fully, without reservation. I could never give her that."

"You did the best you could," she whispered, eyes dry and aching.

"No, I didn't. I cheated on her. I made her feel second-best. Hell, she _was_ second-best." Chakotay laughed, harsh and bitter. "And for what? For someone who could never love me back."

Kathryn closed her eyes.

Chakotay fell silent, staring at the carpet.

"I lied to you, Chakotay."

Her face was in shadow; she held her glass of wine loosely in her lap, fingers twined around its stem. Her hair, longer now, fell forward and he was shocked by his sudden, visceral desire to reach out and touch it, tuck it behind her ear.

"What do you mean?"

She shifted, placed her glass on the low table and turned her body toward him. "That last time we were together," she said, "before Seven died. I told you I –"

He watched her bite her lip, and knew that nothing would ever be as weighty as her next words.

"I told you I didn't love you," she almost whispered. "And I know it makes no difference now – I know it's too late – but I wanted you to know that I do. I love you." Her voice broke. "I always have."

He couldn't speak.

She looked away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have –"

"Kathryn," he cut her off, then seemed unable to find the words to continue.

She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. "It's all right, Chakotay. You don't have to say anything – I know you don't feel the same anymore. I just wanted you to know. You deserve that much."

"Why?" he asked blankly. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Kathryn waved a hand. "Oh, you know the reasons. Mark, the mission, the crew –"

"No." He stopped her, catching her hand in his own. "On New Earth. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going to," she whispered. "I was afraid. We were supposed to be there alone, for the rest of our lives. It was too big – I couldn't get my mind around it."

"But we were lovers," he said. "I loved you."

"And I was almost ready to tell you I loved you, too. But then the ship came back."

She saw the shock in his eyes, fading to a dull ache as he took her words in. "All this time," he said, "all these years, I thought I was imagining it. I went crazy trying to work out what I'd really seen in your eyes. How I could have got it so wrong."

"I'm sorry," she said desolately. "When we went back – I hoped you'd get over it with time. I hoped I would, too." She brought her free hand up to his face, her fingers stroking the tattoo on his forehead. "I never did. And I'm sorry it took you so many years to fall out of love with me."

The hurt in his eyes was almost more than she could stand. She dropped her gaze.

Then Chakotay's palm was cradling her face. "Look at me, Kathryn."

She looked up, and his mouth brushed hers, light as a butterfly's wings. Her lips parted on a gasp, and he drew back. She blinked at him.

"I don't know if I can do this," he told her. "Everything that's happened – and I'm so angry, with our situation, with this damned quadrant –"

"With me," she supplied quietly.

"Yes," he said honestly. "But mostly, I'm just angry. I'm not the same man I was back on that planet, Kathryn. I'll never be that man again. I can't love you like I did then."

And there it was – the final blow. Kathryn closed her eyes.

"I understand, Chakotay, and I'm not asking you for anything. I don't have that right."

God, she had to get out of there, before what was left of her heart shattered on the floor at his feet.

"Wait." Chakotay tightened his grip on the hand in her lap.

She looked at him, pleading.

"I do love you, Kathryn. I just don't know if I can love you enough."

She nodded, absorbing the weight of his words. "Then I'll take whatever you can give."

He searched her eyes, read the truth in them, and stood to lead her into the bedroom.

There were tears in her eyes as he slid into her, her hand clasped in his and his arm around her, holding her so close he could hear the hitch in her breathing. She whispered the words he'd never thought to hear from her, spoke them freely, openly, and as they lay together afterwards, she cried. He wasn't sure if she was crying for what they could have had or for what they were now, but he held her anyway, stroking her hair until she slept.

In the morning she was gone before he woke, and he wasn't sure if he was saddened or relieved.

===0===

It was Icheb's discovery that planted the seed. He'd been reviewing the astrometric database and had become curious about the nebula they'd passed four years earlier, the one they had exited swiftly when they discovered it was crawling with Borg. According to his study of the readings – and Janeway had no reason to doubt him; he was quite the perfectionist – the wormholes they'd thought were hiding in that nebula were nothing of the sort, but rather, indicated a Borg transwarp hub.

Kathryn turned that over in her mind occasionally, polishing it like a marble. She didn't know what she was going to do with the information; she only knew that it was, somehow, important.

Then B'Elanna Torres mentioned, during one of their now-frequent evening conversations, that she and Harry had been perfecting the ablative hull armour. She said – only half-jokingly – that she believed it could even repel a Borg attack.

Kathryn started wondering about that. A defence against the Borg, and a way to get home. If they reversed course now, returned to the hub, they could be back in the Alpha quadrant within four years.

And Seven would still be dead, and Chakotay consumed with anger and guilt, and she herself ... She would still be broken beyond repair.

She wasn't sure that getting home mattered to her anymore. Not the way it had.

Not without them.

 _So many regrets_ , she often thought as she stared through the viewport in her quarters in the hours past midnight. If there was only a way to make different choices. To change the things she'd done, save the people she loved.

If there was only a way to cheat time itself.

===0===

(THE END … or is it?)

Page 5 of 5


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